


Alive

by MegGonagall



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Community: hermione_smut, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Eventually Resolved Sexual Tension, F/M, Hermione/Severus - Freeform, Hogwarts Eighth Year, POV Alternating, PTSD, SSHG - Freeform, Severus Snape Lives, Sexual Tension, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-08-05 00:14:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16356941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MegGonagall/pseuds/MegGonagall
Summary: When a large majority of your life revolved around ending, and hopefully surviving war, how do you begin to find yourself once it is over? How do you find your purpose again? A question that both Hermione Granger and Severus Snape struggle with during the new school year in a peaceful world.





	1. Chapter 1

_Is something wrong?  
She said_  
 _ **Of course there is**_  
 _You're still alive  
She said_  
 _ **Oh do I deserve to be?  
Is that the question?   
And if so, if so  
Who answers?  
Who answers?**_ — pearl jam 

ooo

A drop of rain slowly trailed down the window of Hermione Granger’s compartment on the Hogwarts Express. Her eyes followed its trail as the grey sky and the countryside blurred along behind it. A sad comparison to what her life had become since the war, she mused to herself. She, too, travelled listlessly, as the world seemed to blur all around her. 

Ginny and Luna were having a light conversation beside her. She could hear them, but she didn’t really _hear_ them. Their voices sounded muffled, almost like she had cotton stuck in her ears, or like they were coming from the other end of a large, empty corridor. That seemed to happen quite often recently. 

The weeks that followed the battle she noticed small variances in the way she experienced life. Food, for example, didn’t seem to taste the same as it once did. Every flavor from salty, to sweet, to sour, and spicy had all been the same. Bland. Boring. Lifeless. She didn’t eat for pleasure any longer. Truth be told, she rarely ate at all. Only when others were watching her at mealtimes. 

It was a combination of things, she realized, that caused her current state. One of which was obvious — the trauma of what she had been through the previous year, which she was still struggling to cope with. But there was something else that even took _her_ by surprise. She no longer felt a sense of purpose. For so long, since she was a child really, her main focus had been the rise and eventual fall of Voldemort. Making sure that she, Harry, and Ron survived. But now that Harry had defeated Voldemort, and his ever present threat no longer lingered over the heads of the Wizarding World, Hermione was not sure what to do with her life. 

That uncertainty about her future was why she was currently the only one of her trio who was on their way back to Hogwarts to finish their final year. Hermione hoped that once she returned to school, and got back into the structure and routine of student life, that it would give her purpose again. 

Besides her role in helping Harry win the war, her studies were always one of her main focuses in life. Not that her schooling had been on the back burner for all of those years. More like… the side burner. But now, she could just focus on her coursework, and that alone. And hopefully, that would direct her towards her next step in life. 

“Wrackspurts must have got her.” Hermione heard Luna say. 

She truly did care for the girl, but still, some of the things that came out of her mouth caused Hermione to roll her eyes. 

“Sorry,” Hermione said as she turned to face them. “Were you talking to me?” 

Ginny shook her head as a sad smile touched her lips. “Yes, Hermione,” she answered, her exasperation clearly evident in her tone. 

“You know, Hermione, if you keep a radish on you, it helps ward off the Wrackspurts.” Luna moved her long blonde hair from her shoulder, where Hermione could clearly see the radish earring dangling from Luna’s ear. “That’s why I wear these.” 

Ginny quickly coughed to disguise her laugh, as Hermione blankly stared at Luna. 

“Erm… I’ll keep that in mind.”

Hermione had long since stopped attempting to argue with Luna’s strange declarations. Recently, she couldn’t be arsed to argue with anyone at all, for that matter. 

That was probably why her relationship, if you could have even called it that, with Ron fell apart. It seemed that the interest they had in each other stemmed from their constant back and forth. Once that died, so did any hope of a future together. Both of them quickly became bored with one another, and after only a few short weeks of dating, decided they were better off as friends. She thought she would have been more upset about it, but truthfully, she felt more relieved than anything else. 

“Anyway,” Ginny said loudly. “What I said was, do you think Snape will actually come back to teach?” 

A small knot formed in her stomach. She’d been wondering the same actually. 

Hermione shrugged. “Dunno. He doesn’t exactly _have_ to any longer, does he?” 

The signature dreamy expression on Luna faded, and uncharacteristically her face became solemn. 

“Does he know?” she asked in a hushed voice. 

Ginny snorted, a frown formed on her lips, since she would have already anticipated Hermione’s response. 

Hermione gave a minute shake of her head. “No,” she stated firmly. “And I would prefer for it to remain that way.” 

She fixed her eyes directly on Ginny as she spoke. Hermione knew that her friend thought she should tell Snape that it was she who had saved his life the night of the Final Battle. She felt that Snape deserved to know. Hermione, however, was dead set on carrying that secret with her to the grave. Only a handful of people had known the truth; Harry, Ron, Ginny, Luna and Neville. 

“I would want to know who it was if it were me,” the redhead mumbled obstinately. 

Hermione exhaled as a surge of anger went through her. Only mildly, however. All of her emotions seemed to be mere shadows of what they once were. 

“We’ve been through this at least a dozen times, Ginny,” Hermione began. 

Ginny rolled her eyes. “I know, I know. You don’t want him feeling indebted to anyone. Which is a load of rubbish, in my opinion.” 

“It’s not rubbish!” Her voice went up an octave. “Hadn’t he already dealt with that enough in his life? With Dumbledore and Voldemort?” 

Ginny cocked an eyebrow. That was the most emotion Hermione had in her voice in weeks. 

“And I keep telling you, it’s not the same,” said Ginny evenly. 

Hermione turned back towards the window. “We’re not having this conversation again. _No one_ will ever tell him, and that’s the end of it.” 

Ginny just didn’t understand. Snape spent the entirety of his adult life working as a spy for The Order, because of the guilt he felt over Lily Potter losing her life. He was indebted to that guilt, and Hermione felt that after all he had done, he deserved a normal life. Peace. Freedom. She had not rescued him from that shack with any ulterior motives. There was a man she had known for a large chunk of her life bleeding out right before her eyes. She would have done the same for anyone in that position. 

Hermione trailed her finger along the raised letters carved into her left arm. Well, _almost_ anyone, she thought. 

Not long after, the train came to a halt at Hogsmeade station. She took a deep breath as she stood from her seat. This was what she wanted, she reminded herself; her heart began beating more quickly at the thought of entering the castle again. 

“Ready?” Ginny asked, while opening the door to their compartment. 

Hermione knew this first night back at the school was going to be difficult for so many of the students, and staff, returning after the war. Was she ready? 

She gave a single nod, and followed her friends to queue up with the rest of the students on the train.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is like my millionth WIP, but I was just so happy to be writing something again, that I had to post. I haven’t forgotten or abandoned my other projects, I just can’t seem to get anything going with them as of late. So I started something new in the meantime. Same pairing, but something a little different than what I normally write. Usually I cross-post across a few different fanfic sites, but this story will be here on AO3 exclusively. I have a large chunk of it written already, so I hope you enjoy it! Hopefully I’ll be getting back to Saving Severus Snape, and After Life soon. Now that it seems I’m actually able to write again.


	2. Chapter 2

Why did he come back to teach, Severus wondered, as he watched the students file into The Great Hall. Habit, he supposed. He began his career at Hogwarts only three short years after leaving it as a student. It was the only thing he had ever known. Besides, what else could he have done? Who else would have hired him? He was more than aware of the split feelings about him throughout the Wizarding World. 

Even though Potter — he suppressed an eye roll — made it a point to tell anyone who would listen of his innocence, there were still those who only looked at him as a Death Eater. As the man who murdered their beloved hero, Albus Dumbledore. He even saw it then, that look of disdain, in the eyes of some of the students. 

Not that it mattered what his students thought of him. So long as they didn’t blow up his classroom, or cause him too much of a headache, they could shove their opinions of him up their arses for all he cared. 

His internal musings were suddenly interrupted by the sight of a bushy head of brown hair, trailing alongside the youngest Weasley. This time, he did not stop himself from rolling his eyes. He should have known that Granger would have returned to the school. Not only would he be forced to deal with her incessant know-it-all ways, but the girl was a physical reminder of the most excruciatingly painful moment of his pitiful existence. 

He tried not to think of it much. The attack from Nagini. Only in his nightmares during those nights he neglected to take his Dreamless Sleep Potion, and those moments of mental twilight, between sleep and consciousness did the images flood his mind. Whiskey helped drown the thoughts during his waking hours. But seeing _her_ , one of the last faces he saw before he was convinced his life was at an end… 

His hand travelled to the jagged scar on his neck, seemingly of its own accord. Of _fucking_ course she returned, he thought with a sneer. 

“Severus,” Minerva said from beside him, “are you alright?” 

He lowered his hand and grunted noncommittally, taking his eyes away from the girl. 

“You’re looking rather pale,” she further went on, her eyes narrowing at him from behind her glasses. 

Severus raised an eyebrow. 

“Well,” she smirked. “Paler than usual, that is.” 

Not that he would have ever admitted it to anyone, but truthfully he was grateful that Minerva had accepted him back into her life after the war had ended. It wasn’t as if he ever had many people whom he could call a friend, but his former professor, and current colleague fit the description more than anyone else. 

“Don’t you have a Sorting to take care of?” he grumbled. 

Minerva’s eyes flickered towards Filius, who was stood on a stool unrolling a piece of parchment containing the names of all the incoming first years. 

“Right, _Headmistress_. The tedious duty no longer falls upon your shoulders, so now it seems your job during the Welcoming Feast is to badger me.” 

She laughed quietly. Minerva was the only one who ever seemed to _get_ him. 

“I have mentioned how wonderful it is to have you back, Severus, haven’t I?” she joked. 

Severus snorted and turned his attention towards the new batch of dunderheads he would have to keep from destroying his classroom. 

As the names were being called, and the students ran towards their new house tables, he suddenly had the feeling as if he was being watched. For some reason, his eyes travelled towards the Gryffindor table, and he was caught by surprise when he noticed Granger looking right at him. 

The moment he locked eyes with her, however, she quickly ducked her head down and focused on her empty plate. 

There had been something off about the girl, he noted. Her robes seemed to hang off of her, almost as if she were a child playing dress up in her mother’s clothing. Her skin appeared tight across her face; her cheekbones more prevalent than he remembered and her eyes seemed too large. Her hair was more unkempt, and wilder than ever before. 

Even the way she sat somehow seemed different. No longer was she upright and proud, as she had once sat at the Gryffindor table. Now she hunched over, with an arm wrapped around her torso, as if she were trying to become as small as possible. 

With a infinitesimal, and unanticipated, pang of sympathy for her, he realized what had caused such a drastic change. The war clearly affected Granger, that was obvious.

The scrape of a chair next to him drew his attention from the girl, when Minerva stood up, and made her way to the podium to make her beginning of term speech. 

It was exactly what he had expected, words about hope and new beginnings, starting over and second chances. He didn’t miss the way some of the students’ eyes — mainly the sixth and seventh years — landed on him at those words. 

Soon the feast appeared and Severus ate quietly, appreciating the fact that Minerva didn’t feel the need to break his silence with mindless dinner conversation. Another reason he got on so well with her. 

For some inexplicable reason, his gaze flickered back to Granger several times during the meal. He didn’t know who she was fooling, but any idiot should have been able to notice she was merely pushing the food around her plate, in an attempt to appear as if she were eating it. That explained the substantial weight loss, he assumed, if she’d made a habit of doing that. 

He scowled to himself, wondering why he had even noticed, or spent the mental energy becoming somewhat concerned, and continued on with his meal, without sparing another glance in that direction. 

When the plates were finally cleared, and the students and staff were leaving the Great Hall to retire to their dormitories, or their living quarters, Severus couldn’t help but to notice Granger once more. She was looking at him again with the most peculiar expression on her face. He couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, it was almost bordering on something like… hopeful. 

He did his best to muster the best glare he could manage, which seemed to have done the trick. Again she abruptly turned away, with her cheeks reddening in the process. 

What in the actual fuck had that been all about, he wondered, as he stalked his way down towards the dungeons, mentally daring any of the students to step out of line and just give him a reason to take points from them. 

As he entered his quarters and took of his cloak, also ridding himself of his shoes in the process, he waved his wand to summon a bottle of whiskey and a glass. He sank into the sofa in front of his fireplace, igniting a warm fire, before reaching for his pack of cigarettes on the table next to him. 

He sat with his glass in hand taking a deep pull from his cigarette, thinking of the upcoming term. How odd it would be, he thought, for once focusing on nothing but teaching. No longer would he have to juggle his duel role in the war; appearing to pass along useful information to The Dark Lord, while acting as Albus’ puppet. 

Severus exhaled a cloud of smoke through his nostrils, before taking a large gulp of his alcohol. He strangely felt empty at the thought of the upcoming year. For so long his purpose in life had been bringing down Voldemort, but now he felt lost. He had no direction. No purpose. 

There were times that he felt he should have died in that shack, the night of the Final Battle. He always assumed it would end that way. That he would have died in the war. Many nights he wondered how he had survived. Obviously _someone_ had intervened, but no one seemed to know who it was. 

He flicked his cigarette into the fire, took one last drink of his whiskey, and headed off towards his bedroom. 

Did he want to know who it was who saved his life, he asked himself, while settling into bed. There were times that he felt he should at least thank the person, but then there were other times when he wanted to curse them for forcing him into this meaningless existence. 

What was the point of living when you had no purpose to live for any longer?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! 
> 
> It’s so great seeing some familiar usernames in the kudos and the comments! I’m honestly so grateful for the kind words I’ve received so far, and super thankful for a lot of you following what I write. I was actually a little blown away by it, to be honest. <33 
> 
> I thought that I’d get this chapter up, shortly after the first, since it sets the tone for our two main characters. After this, I’m going to space out the updates a little bit more. Just so I can kinda be ahead a few chapters of what I’m posting, and not risk having another unfinished story on here. And also to give me some wiggle room to try to work on some of my other projects. 
> 
> Thank you all again so, so much for coming on another Snamione journey with me! I’m happy to have you all, new and old readers alike, here with me! 
> 
> Sending tons of love and hugs your way, 
> 
> Meg <33


	3. Chapter 3

Light filtered in through the window of Hermione’s private room, waking her from sleep. She groaned as she rolled onto her side, not at all feeling rested. It was difficult for her to fall asleep, and if she had to have guessed, she would have estimated she only got about three solid hours in. 

It was surreal waking in the castle once again. Almost as if it had been a lifetime since she last did, but also like it had been only yesterday, all at the same time. 

Hermione sat up slowly, tossing her blanket aside, and trying her best not to wake Crookshanks, who was curled up at the foot of her bed. She stood and stretched hoping a warm shower would properly wake her. And if that didn’t work, there was always coffee in The Great Hall. 

As she padded her way to the bathroom, she was thankful that McGonagall made sure those who returned to retake their final year had their own rooms, and would not be required to share with the younger students. Only a handful of her peers came back, and opted out of receiving their honorary NEWTs, due to fighting in the war; Dean Thomas, Neville Longbottom, Hannah Abbott, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Anthony Goldstein, and surprisingly, Draco Malfoy. 

Dean, Hannah and Justin made sense to Hermione. They, like her, were all in hiding the previous year. Neville, who focused most of his time and energy on keeping the resistance going at Hogwarts, felt he missed out on his final year of education. Anthony, he returned to have a proper final year she’d heard. Draco, however, she wasn’t quite sure why he returned. Not that she planned on asking him, but it did puzzle her. 

When she entered the Great Hall for breakfast, she saw that Ginny and Neville were already there, and had a space for Hermione saved. Dean, she noticed, was sat at the Ravenclaw table, deep in conversation with Luna. After being imprisoned in the basement of Malfoy Manor together, the pair of them had become exceptionally good friends. 

She then sat down and immediately reached for the coffee, before even attempting a hello. 

“Hey, Hermione,” Neville said with a smile, while buttering his toast. 

“Morning, Neville,” she replied as she topped off her mug. 

Hermione was glad that Neville decided to return that year. She wasn’t quite as close with him as she was with Harry or Ron, but next to them, he was probably one of the closest friends that she had. 

“You look terrible,” Ginny bluntly stated. 

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ginny’s lack of tact, as she dropped a cube of sugar into her coffee. 

Like she didn’t see the heavy bags beneath her eyes, as she got ready for the day that morning. Or the fact that her hair seemed to be more wild than ever before in her life. Also, that her robes were now entirely too loose had not escaped her notice either. Not that it mattered. Really, who was she there to impress? 

“Good morning to you too, Ginny,” she mumbled before taking a drink. 

Before Ginny could reply, Professor McGonagall — well, Headmistress McGonagall now, stopped by the Gryffindor table to hand out their time tables. Hermione scanned the parchment quickly, and felt a dropping sensation in her stomach when she saw she had a double Potions lesson that afternoon. 

Just as the previous evening, her gaze travelled up to the head table, and fell upon Professor Snape, who sat looking down at a copy of _The Daily Prophet _, wearing a scowl on his face.__

__Again she was astonished by the difference in his appearance. He had gained some weight since she had seen him last. Granted, he was still a thin man, but he no longer looked sickly. His skin was still as pale as ever, but it lost a bit of that almost waxy texture. The long black curtains of hair, which framed his face, were nowhere near as oily as they had once been, which was the most shocking change of them all. For the first time since she had known him, Professor Snape appeared to look healthy._ _

__It gave her a small feeling of satisfaction, upon seeing him look well. She supposed it was due to no longer dealing with the immense stress of leading a double life; fearing he would be found out at any moment and killed on the spot. He had a second chance at life, one that she secretly ensured that he would have. So many lives were unnecessarily lost that night of the battle, and she was content in knowing she saved at least one._ _

__She wasn’t sure at the time why she had done it. Gone back for him. But the more she thought on it during the summer, her mind was made up when she watched him leak out his memories for Harry. There was something about the act, and the desperation in his eyes as he begged Harry to take them, that convinced her perhaps he was not who they all thought him to be after he had killed Dumbledore. Something about the oddity of the gesture, in that moment, caused her to doubt his loyalty to Voldemort, and compelled her to re-enter that shack to see if there had been a way to save him._ _

__As Snape closed the paper and reached for the mug before him, he glanced up, and like last night, locked his black eyes onto hers. This time he raised an eyebrow when he caught her staring, and Hermione quickly turned away, not wanting him to see what she had just been thinking, feeling just a small hint of heat fill her cheeks._ _

__“He looks good, doesn’t he?” Ginny said knowingly from beside her._ _

__Hermione jolted. She didn’t realize she’d been so obvious in her staring._ _

__“Who?” she asked, feigning ignorance._ _

__Ginny snorted. “Who? You know bloody well who.”_ _

__Hermione turned to glare at her friend._ _

__“I mean, I’m not saying he’s fit, or anything,” she continued with her nose scrunched. “I just meant that he looks… I dunno. Healthier or something.”_ _

__She shrugged, playing it off as if she hadn’t just thought the same exact thing. “I suppose.”_ _

__“So you’re still not—“_ _

__Hermione didn’t need her to finish. “No,” she immediately cut her off._ _

__Ginny rolled her eyes, and mumbled something about Hermione being ridiculous. Then both girls finished their breakfast — Hermione’s only consisting of toast and two cups of coffee — without another word._ _

__Hermione’s morning classes all seemed to meld into one. For as much as she tried to focus, and attempted to continue her habit of being perhaps a bit _too _attentive in her classes, she just couldn’t seem to pay much attention. That annoying occurrence of there seeming to be cotton in her ears, causing the Professors’ lectures to sound muffled and unclear, happened throughout the day. She was really hoping that her studies would have awoken something in her, but sadly that was not the case. If someone had asked her, she wouldn’t have even been able to tell them who she sat next to during her lessons, or what the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor’s name had been. She supposed he seemed friendly enough, however.___ _

____Being in the castle again wasn’t as comforting to her as she had hoped. Every corner she turned, and each corridor she walked through contained a shadow of that terrible night. She wasn’t sure how Ginny was even coping, because when Hermione walked passed the spot where Fred had died, she wound up running to the nearest toilet to lose the small amount of breakfast she forced herself to consume._ _ _ _

____When lunch time came around, Hermione decided to skip it, and headed to the library, since that had always been her place of refuge. Something about the silence, and the smell of the old books were something she had revelled in, for nearly her entire life. Plus, she had been set an essay in her Arithmancy class, so she decided to get a head start on it to distract her from the dark thoughts._ _ _ _

____When she began, the words on the pages blurred, and she found herself re-reading the same paragraph nearly six times, but still wasn’t retaining any of the information. She began feeling incredibly frustrated with herself, and slammed the book shut, letting out a deep sigh._ _ _ _

____What was going on with her, she wondered? Never could she remember a time when she read something, and could not immediately commit it to memory. Now, she wasn’t even sure which textbook it was that she originally pulled out to work on. She worried slightly, about her own well-being. There was nothing that she used to enjoy that kept her interested any longer. She was constantly irritable, always tired, and every part of her body seemed to have a ever present ache. Even the sound of her voice had become flat and hollow in her own ears. Had she gone mad from the war?_ _ _ _

____Her head began to pound, right in her temples. It was almost a guarantee that another migraine was coming on. She knew the signs all too well by this point. They’d become a regular occurrence. A residual effect from the prolonged amount of time she spent suffering the Cruciatus Curse, she was told by the Healers. She still had a bit of time before her afternoon lessons would begin, and thought perhaps she should head back to her rooms and rest her eyes beforehand._ _ _ _

____In what felt like no time at all, Hermione was jolted awake by the sound of the alarm she set for herself. When she looked at the time, it felt as if the bed beneath her fell through the floor. She overslept! There was only five minutes until her Potions class began. She panicked knowing it was absolutely impossible, even with the shortcuts she knew of, to make it there on time._ _ _ _

____Quickly she grabbed her bag, not even taking the time to attempt smoothing down the frizzy mess that was her hair, and ran through the castle down to the dungeons._ _ _ _

____When she entered the classroom, Snape was in the front of the room, already started with the lesson for the day. As he saw her, she watched his eyes narrow and his lip curl. It was clear he was not pleased._ _ _ _

____“How lovely of you to grace us with your presence, Miss Granger,” he sneered in a low, chilling voice._ _ _ _

____“Please, sir—“ she panted, clutching at the cramp in her side._ _ _ _

____Ginny turned around to look at her, and Hermione noticed the hint of relief on her face. She should have realized that her friends may have worried about her, since she hadn’t been seen since well before lunch._ _ _ _

____“Save it, Miss Granger,” Snape snapped, his black eyes flashed dangerously. He quickly waved his wand and pulled out a seat at the empty table in front of his desk. “Sit,” he ordered. “And ten points from Gryffindor.”_ _ _ _

____She wasn’t happy that she had lost points on her first day, but she knew it could have been a lot worse._ _ _ _

____“Yes, sir,” she said quietly as she took her seat._ _ _ _

____Snape made sure to throw one more look of contempt in her direction, before turning back to the class and continuing on with his lecture._ _ _ _

____As Hermione reached into her bag, her hands trembled slightly. It due to her nervousness with being in such close proximity to Snape, for the first time since she returned to the Shrieking Shack after the battle to get him proper help. She attempted to pull out her belongings as quietly as she could, but wasn’t able to gather her things without make at least a small amount of noise. Snape glanced at her from the side of his eye as she did. And when her brass scales slipped from her fingers, and crashed to the floor with a resounding clang, he rounded on her._ _ _ _

____“Miss Granger,” he began, in a voice just above a whisper, but every bit as powerful as if he’d shouted. “That is the second time you’ve interrupted my class.”_ _ _ _

____She locked eyes with him, feeling very much like a small mouse caught in the eyes of the snake which was preparing to devour it. “I’m sorry, sir,” she said._ _ _ _

____He continued on as if she hadn’t spoken. “Clearly the fame of being one of the most well-known war heroes has gone to your bushy head, and has you operating under the delusion that you can do as you please without consequence.”_ _ _ _

____Hermione’s eyes narrowed. How dare he! That was entirely unfair! It was an accident, for Merlin’s sake, she thought, with a simmering heat beginning to bubble in her chest. Yes, she was back as a student, but she was an adult. She refused to be spoken to like some errant child. For the first time in months, she felt her cheeks not just dully warm up, but scorch from an anger she had not felt in quite some time._ _ _ _

____“Clearly, _Professor _, the fame of you being one of the most famous war heroes has done nothing to squash that shit attitude of yours,” she spat, the words flying out of her, seemingly of their own accord._ _ _ _ __

____For a fraction of a moment she wasn’t quite sure what had come over her. It was completely unlike her to speak back to a professor in such a manner. Regardless, she did not back down, and remained sitting up straight, refusing to let him intimidate her._ _ _ _

____There was a audible gasp heard from multiple students in the classroom. Snape took two steps forward, until he was standing directly in front of her desk. She did not flinch, not even when he gripped the sides of her desk, and leaned in with his face inches away from hers._ _ _ _

____“Not only have you just earned yourself a detention, Miss Granger,” he hissed. His nostrils flared, and she could hear him breathing heavily, as if he was just barely controlling his full rage. “You have also lost an additional fifty points for your language.” Hermione’s lips thinned as she struggled to control her urge to show him just how colorful her language could become. “And,” he continued. “If you ever speak to me in such a manner again, I will personally see to it that you are permanently removed from this school. Do I make myself clear?”_ _ _ _

____Hermione could feel her heart racing. It was the most she had actually felt _anything _, even if it was something akin to loathing, in quite some time._ _ _ _ __

____“Yes, sir,” she said through her teeth._ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! 
> 
> I just want to thank everyone again for all the kind words/kudos/reads/subs/bookmarks!! I truly appreciate the love, and I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! 
> 
> All the love,  
> Meg <33


	4. Chapter 4

“What the _hell_ was that about?” Ginny asked, gripping Hermione’s arm to keep her from walking away after class. 

“I… I don’t know,” Hermione answered honestly. 

Truthfully, she hadn’t a clue what had gotten into her, and caused her to respond in that way. But what she did know was that the adrenaline from their interaction was still running through her veins. The feeling of actually _feeling_ something again was almost euphoric. 

Ginny snorted. “Thought you wanted the man to have a _peaceful life_ ,” she said, poorly imitating Hermione’s voice. 

Hermione shot her a look from the side of her eye. “Don’t you have Quidditch practice, or something?” she spat. 

“Not for another few hours,” Ginny laughed. “So you’re not getting rid of me that easily.” 

“Lovely,” Hermione mumbled. 

“But really, Hermione,” Ginny went on, as the girls continued walking down the corridor. “The look on Snape’s face!” She was unable to go on speaking, due to breaking out into laughter. 

Hermione couldn’t help it, and managed to crack a smile. Professor Snape did stand there for a moment with his mouth gaped opened like a fish out of water. As did half the class, for that matter. 

“And did you see the vein in his forehead!” Ginny added, scrunching up her face, almost looking as if she were constipated. 

For the first time in what felt like ages, Hermione genuinely laughed. As shocked at herself as she was, she did have to admit, what happened was sort of funny. 

Later that evening, Hermione was once again in the library, determined to make herself focus, and get her work started. She was in the middle of writing one of her essays when a tiny Ravenclaw trotted up to her. 

“Excuse me, Hermione?” she asked quietly. 

Hermione looked up from her work and smiled politely at the young girl. “Yes?” 

“Professor Snape asked for me to deliver this to you,” she said, holding out a folded piece of parchment with a slightly shaky hand. 

Her detention notice, she assumed, as she took it from the girl and thanked her. 

When she turned to leave, Hermione unfolded the note. 

_Miss Granger_

_Your detention will be held_  
_tomorrow evening, in my_  
_classroom. Be there at eight_  
_o’clock. Do not be late._

_— S.S._

Hermione folded the parchment and stuffed it into her bag, then leaned her head back against the chair, letting out a loud sigh. She hadn’t anticipated being alone with him at all this term. With her secret regarding saving his life, she felt it would be entirely too uncomfortable for her to be near him, without the buffer of a classroom of students around her. She wasn’t entirely sure how to act around the man. 

Deciding she was now too distracted to continue on with her coursework, Hermione packed up and made her way out of the library. She was surprised to see on her way out, that Draco Malfoy was sitting at one of the tables alone, with his books spread out around him, working his homework. As she passed he looked up and locked eyes with her. Hermione prepared herself for a cutting remark, and was shocked when he gave her a small nod of recognition, and immediately went back to work. 

How odd, she thought. Not just the fact that he behaved somewhat cordially towards her, but that he was by himself. For as long as she remembered, Malfoy always made sure to surround himself with an audience of thugs and admirers. Funny how many things have changed since after the war. 

Just as she was walking up the stairs towards Gryffindor tower, she heard footsteps slapping behind her. 

“Hermione!” Ginny called out. “Wait up!” 

She was covered in mud, and dressed in her Quidditch gear, so Hermione assumed practice had just ended. 

“How was practice?” Hermione asked when Ginny caught up to her. 

Ginny huffed and rolled her eyes. “Pathetic, the lot of them,” she said. “We’ll be lucky to stand a chance against Hufflepuff next month, if tonight was any judge of how things will be going.” 

Hermione gave her friend a sympathetic smile. “It was only the first practice, Gin. None of you had a chance to play last term…” 

The unspoken portion of that sentence lingered heavily in the air between them. No. There was no Quidditch the previous year. 

“Yeah, well never mind that for now,” Ginny broke the silence. “I was just with McGonagall discussing the team — “ Hermione raised an eyebrow. “I know, I know, she’s Headmistress now, and has to be _impartial_ , but the woman knows more about Quidditch than any other professor in the school. Definitely more than Hagrid.” 

Hermione wondered how much longer before McGonagall put her foot down, and told Ginny she would have to start speaking to their new Head of House, Hagrid regarding the house team. She made a mental note to stop by his hut to congratulate him, since she hadn’t had a chance to properly speak with him yet. 

“Anyway,” Ginny continued. “She asked to see you.” 

Hermione’s stomach dropped. Why was the Headmistress asking to speak with her? Probably due to her actions in Potions that afternoon. 

“Right,” she said, suddenly feeling ill. “I better be off then, before it gets too late.”

Ginny gave her a pat on the arm. “Don’t worry, Hermione. I’ve cursed out professors before. I’m sure it’ll be alright.” 

With a dismissive hum, Hermione turned and made her way to McGonagall’s office. Realizing halfway there that she hadn’t known the password, she was relieved to find Professor McGonagall waiting for her near the stone Gargoyle. However, that relief quickly vanished when she saw the tight lipped expression on her face. 

“Miss Granger,” she said in acknowledgement. “If you’ll follow me.” 

Hermione swallowed. Yes, she was certainly in trouble. “Of course, Professor,” she whispered. 

When both women were sat in the office, Hermione in one of the familiar chairs in front of the Head’s desk, McGonagall sighed deeply, while piercing her with a stern look. 

“I’m sure you’re aware of the reason I called for you this evening?” she began. 

Hermione sunk a bit her in seat. She truly admired and looked up to Professor McGonagall, and the thought of disappointing her made Hermione feel ashamed. 

“I am,” she said, not able to take her eyes from the carpet beneath her feet. 

She chanced a look up at McGonagall and was taken aback when she saw her expression morph into one of sympathy. 

“Hermione,” she said. 

The use of her given name caused a minuscule amount of tension to leave her shoulders. 

“Are you alright, dear?” McGonagall asked. “Besides that abomination of a woman, Umbridge,” her mouth twisted around the name, “I don’t recall a time that I’ve had to speak with you regarding your behavior with a Professor.” 

Hermione wasn’t sure how to respond. Was she alright? Hadn’t she wondered earlier that afternoon if she’d gone mad since the war? Her focus was gone, she was late to a class, and she shouted at the most formidable professor in the school. No. No Hermione was not _alright_ by any stretch of the imagination. 

“I suppose,” she lied with a shrug. 

McGonagall did not say anything for a few moments, instead she stared at Hermione appearing as if she knew she was lying. 

“Very well,” she said tiredly. 

Hermione rubbed her hands across her lap, smoothing out her skirt. She had the feeling that Professor McGonagall wanted to say more, however, she watched Hermione in a way that was eerily reminiscent to how Professor Dumbledore would look at students. Almost as if she were trying to look right through her. 

She glanced at Dumbledore’s empty fame, wondering where he might have gone to. 

“It’s quite remarkable, isn’t it?” McGonagall broke the silence. 

Hermione’s eyebrows knitted together. “I’m sorry, Professor, but what’s remarkable?” 

The corner of McGonagall’s mouth lifted. “How Professor Snape managed to survive that horrific attack.” 

Suddenly the room seemed to become too small, and Hermione’s heart rate increased significantly. Fearing that avoiding eye contact would have given her away, Hermione locked her eyes onto McGonagall’s. There was no way she could have known. Or could there have been? 

“He was very lucky,” was all Hermione said. 

“Yes. That he was.” 

The look of suspicion she was giving Hermione caused her to feel extremely uncomfortable. Unconsciously, she began to pick at a loose piece of skin at her nail bed. 

“Was there anything else, Professor?” Hermione asked, desperate to leave. 

McGonagall softly shook her head. “No, Hermione. I think that will do for this evening. You may leave,” she thankfully dismissed her. 

As Hermione thanked her, and hurried towards the door, McGonagall called for her. 

“And Hermione, do try to control your tongue in the future. I find myself with enough tedious duties to concern myself with, without adding an agitated Professor Snape to that list.” 

The small smile on McGonagall’s lips caused Hermione to laugh quietly. “I’m sorry, Professor. I’m sure that could not have been pleasant,” Hermione joked. 

McGonagall’s smile deepened. “Yes, well… off you go then.” 

“Good night, Professor,” Hermione called over her shoulder as she opened the door. 

*** 

What a perpetual thorn in his side, just as he knew she would have been. Waltzing into his classroom ten minutes late, as if the rules were beneath her. What had she expected? Had she thought since she was of age, and a member of that _Golden Trio_ — such an asinine name the press had given them, that she could do as she pleased? 

Severus signed his initials on Granger’s detention notice, before sealing it up, and stormed from his classroom to have it delivered before he began his rounds. He didn’t care who gave it to her, any one of these students would do. 

He noticed a small Ravenclaw walk by him. Snapping his fingers, he called for her. 

“You!” he barked. 

The girl jumped before slowly turning around. He nearly smiled seeing he still had that effect on his students. 

“Y-Yes, Professor?” the girl squeaked. 

Abruptly he thrusted the parchment at her. 

“Deliver this to Miss Granger, if you would? Odds are you’ll find her in the library,” he sneered. Over-achieving little chit, he added in his head. 

As the girl took the paper from him, and quickly scurried away, it seemed to dawn on him what he was subjecting himself to. An evening alone with one of the three people he’d hoped to avoid for the rest of his life. 

Granger had seen him at his most vulnerable, when he was mere inches from death. He assumed, thanks to Potter, that she was also aware of his most intimate memories. His weakness. _The Daily Prophet_ , and by extension the Wizarding community, only had knowledge of his memories regarding his interactions with Dumbledore, proving he was a spy. But as far as anything connected with Lily, they remained ignorant. Potter had at least done that much for him. But Granger, and Potter’s bumbling idiot of a sidekick, Weasley, he was convinced must have known the entirety of his memories. Severus had carefully avoided anyone seeing him vulnerable throughout all of his adult years, and the thought that she had seen him in such a state, and most likely knew the personal details of his life vexed him. Woe betide the girl if she showed up late for his detention. 

He had to admit, however, Granger stirred something in him that day. Ever since he woke up in St. Mungo’s after the attack, he’d more or less gone through the motions of everyday life. When he wasn’t coping with a bottle of Ogden's finest, he pretty much lived each day in a haze. 

But Granger… her defiant attitude, piercing glare, and the crude words that shockingly fell from her lips, stoked a burning fire in him that he hadn’t felt in quite some time. It made him feel alive. 

He was in a foul mood as he stalked through the castle, doing his nightly rounds. It was very nearly curfew, and Merlin himself would not have been able to help any student he found wandering far from their common room. 

Just as he finally got that bushy-headed nuisance out of his head, he rounded the corner to the Headmistress’ corridor. Anger surged through him as he found himself colliding with someone, who had been turning the corner at the same time. Instinctively he reached forward when they began tumbling backwards, grabbing them by the upper arms, to keep them from toppling onto their backside. When he set her upright, and the sight of that forsaken nest of unruly hair registered with him, his nostrils flared. It would have to have been her. 

“Oof!” she grunted, before looking up at him. His hands still gripped her arms. He watched the recognition slowly fill in her amber eyes. 

“Sir!” she exclaimed, and he was satisfied to detect a small amount of fear in her voice. “I’m - I’m so sorry! I wasn’t paying attention, and I didn’t see you — obviously. I was just leaving Professor McGonagall’s office. She asked to speak with me regarding…” She trailed off. 

He knew she was referring to her actions in his class earlier that day. A part of him rather enjoyed the red tint that begin filling her cheeks.

“I was heading straight back to my common room,” she continued to ramble on with her defense. 

He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t released her yet, however he was acutely aware that her hair smelled strongly of lavender, and of the fact that her breasts were pressed up against his upper abdomen. It had been more time than he cared to admit since he’d been in contact with a witch’s breasts, and the touch seemed to have an involuntary biological effect. He was only a man, after all. 

Granger looked up at him with her chin jutted out, as if she was waiting for him to shout at her for being so far from Gryffindor that close to curfew. His grip tightened on her. 

“Sir?” she said with a glance towards his hands, which were still locked around her arms. “I think you can let go of me now.” 

Under normal circumstances he may have told her off, and taken more points from her, but due to the minor embarrassment he felt at his traitorous body, instead he settled on curt nod, then gently pushed her away. Lest she feel said biological reaction. 

Severus cleared his throat. “I suggest you take your leave, Miss Granger,” he said in a gruff voice, angry that that had betrayed him in that moment as well. 

He noticed Granger clamped her bottom lip between her teeth while giving him the most peculiar look. Her pupils were dilated, and her breathing almost undetectably uneven. If he hadn’t known better, it nearly appeared as if she felt some sort of reaction to their… interaction, as well. 

“Yes, sir,” she said, lingering for a moment, still giving him that puzzling look. Then, without warning, she abruptly turned to leave, as if she could not get away from him quickly enough. 

For some unfathomable reason, he could not tear his eyes from her retreating figure as she walked away and out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya!! 
> 
> So the update is several hours early, but I just really wanted to get the chapter up. :) I hope you all liked it! 
> 
> I’ve decided that I’m going to make this my nanowrimo project for this November, to try to push myself even more to actually finish a WIP that I start. I’m still going to stick to the once a week updates (on or around Tuesdays), regardless of how much is written. 
> 
> As always, thank you all so, so much for being super kind and amazing. I truly appreciate each and every comment, kudos, read, sub, and bookmark. Hope you’ve all had a great week! Thank you again! <33


	5. Chapter 5

The following day Hermione felt uneasy, assuming that Professor McGonagall had somehow figured out her secret. If she knew, did she tell Snape? 

No, she thought. He would have been much harsher towards her if that were the case. Perhaps McGonagall did not know for sure, and merely speculated. 

Another thing that caused her unease was the reaction she had while pressed up against Snape’s body. It had been quite some time since she’d been in the arms of a man — not that she was exactly embraced by Snape, but it was the closest to it in a while. And, Merlin’s pants, the way he looked at her… it was almost like there was some sort of carnal desire buried just beneath the surface of his normally guarded visage. 

Hermione would have been lying to herself if she said there wasn’t a small part of her that felt a minor attraction to the man within recent years. Besides her childhood crush on Lockhart, looks alone were never something Hermione fell for in a wizard. Intelligence and passion were always something she admired, and Snape was one of the most brilliant Wizards she had ever come across. Of course that wasn’t something that she had ever shared with anyone. She could just see the looks of disgust on her friends’ faces if she ever admitted that. And when her body was pressed up against his, she definitely felt _something_ , and this time it had been far from anger. 

Perhaps that had been part of it. One of the reasons she found herself back in that shack, pressing her hands to the wounds on his neck, hoping to stop the bleeding, while frantically searching for her dittany, and the bottle of antivenin she carried with her while she, Harry and Ron were on their search for Horcruxes. She remembered the desperate thought of, “ _Not him!_ ” shouting in her mind as she watched the gruesome attack. As surly and miserable as the man could surely have been most of the time, she knew that he was asset to the wizarding community; someone they could not afford to lose. 

Lost in thought on her way to the Great Hall, she did not notice the person suddenly walking besides her until he spoke. 

“Granger,” Malfoy said in greeting. 

Hermione jumped. “Oh!” Her eyes then narrowed upon seeing who it was. “What do you want, Malfoy?” she asked cautiously. 

Despite their past, there was a part of her that was grateful for what he had done for them in Malfoy Manor. He could have easily exposed them to his lunatic aunt, and the other Death Eaters, but for whatever reason, Draco Malfoy tried, in his own way, to spare them by pretending he did not know who they were. To this day, there was not a doubt in her mind that he knew _exactly_ who he was looking at, when he was face to face with Harry. 

Malfoy shrugged. “Nothing, really,” he said. 

Hermione stopped walking and turned to face him. He also looked different, she noticed. The usual swagger he carried himself with during their younger school days seemed to be missing. Dark bags were beneath his eyes, like he hadn’t slept properly in weeks — he most likely hadn’t, she assumed, and his normally perfect hair was now longer and unkempt. He looked terrible. 

Surprisingly, she actually felt sorry for him. She too knew what it was like to feel like a completely different person after the war. Her shoulders slumped. “Malfoy, listen -” 

He held up a hand to stop her. 

“Granger, I…” he reached up and rubbed at the back of his neck. Another oddity, seeing him so unsure of himself. “I wanted to — erm. I mean, what I’ve done — I’ve done a lot of thinking…” 

She wasn’t sure, but it appeared as if he was trying to offer some sort of apology. The way he was struggling, however, caused a small pang of sympathy for him. 

“It’s alright, Draco,” she told him quietly. His eyes widened minutely as she used his given name. “Like Professor McGonagall said at the start of the term feast, we all deserve second chances. Things… things are different now.” 

The corner of his mouth lifted into a half-smile, which did not reach his sad eyes. 

“Right. Different now,” he repeated, looking down at the ground. 

Yes, Draco Malfoy had done and said some horrible, awful things to her and her friends. Even going as far as being branded by the Dark Mark before their sixth year. But, as she had come to believe, it did not seem as if Malfoy really had a choice. Voldemort was using the Malfoy’s home as his own, so Draco couldn’t very well turn the psychopath down. He would have been killed, for sure. As much as she did not approve or agree with the actions of his past, she understood that he did what he felt he had to in order to have survived. 

She didn’t have to become best friends with him, but by accepting his apology, hopefully that would have been a step towards him finding peace and getting his second chance at life. 

“Would you like to walk to breakfast with me?” she asked. 

Again, he looked a little taken aback before he nodded. 

“Alright then,” he agreed. 

It was mildly awkward walking with him, she had to admit, but soon enough he broke the ice a little. 

“So, Granger,” he said with a smirk. “That was quite the performance in Potions class yesterday.” 

Hermione didn’t respond, save for a snort. 

“I have to say, it was pretty amusing not being on the receiving end of one of your verbal bashings. I thought Snape was going to lose his shit,” he laughed. “ _That shit attitude of yours_ ,” he repeated her words from the previous day in a squeaky voice. “Merlin, Granger.” 

A laugh escaped her at his impression. “Shut up, Malfoy,” she joked, without any of the venom she’d ever put into those words before. 

When they entered the Great Hall, Ginny’s narrowed eyes landed on the pair of them immediately. Malfoy, it seemed, noticed as well. 

“Looks like Weasley isn’t pleased,” he said. 

Hermione shook her head. “No, probably not.” 

Ginny wasn’t really pleased with much these days it seemed. Understandable, though, Hermione thought. Perhaps Ginny becoming significantly more snippy with everyone as of late was just her way of coping. 

Hermione and Malfoy stood awkwardly together in the doorway for a few moments. 

“Well, Granger,” he said, shifting his weight towards the Slytherin table. “I’ll see you around.” He gave her a tentative smile, which Hermione returned. 

“See you around, Malfoy,” she told him. “That was almost pleasant.” 

Malfoy laughed quietly, then turned to walk away. 

As she sat down at her table next to Ginny, and across from Neville, she did not even give them a chance to question her. 

“Before you ask, Malfoy attempted to apologize when he spotted me in the corridor. And yes,” she looked pointedly at Ginny. “I accepted.” 

***

Well that was something he never expected to witness, Granger and Draco looking rather cordial with one another, Severus thought when looked up from his paper and saw them entering the hall together. Unexpectedly, a twinge of jealousy hit him as he saw her genuinely smile at his sodding godson. He watched her carefully, barely lifting his head to avoid having anyone notice what he was doing. Why he was suddenly drawn to her, he couldn’t explain it to himself if he tried. 

He was disgusted with himself when he found himself noticing her attractiveness, as she made her way towards the Gryffindor table. Although, who had he been fooling? He noticed it the previous evening, as he held onto her in the middle of that dark corridor. As she stood before him, he was taken in by her full pink lips, as she licked them nervously, and the almost honey color of her eyes. The girl had flawless skin, which became even more appealing when it flushed, every so slightly, giving it a lovely rosy tint. Any Wizard would have realized she was an attractive Witch. 

Severus shook his head, attempting to clear it of those thoughts. Even though Miss Granger was nearly two years passed majority, she was still a student. However, an annoying voice popped into his mind, if the world had never known of the Dark Lord, Granger would have been out of school, making a career for herself in the Wizarding World. 

Scowling, he tore his eyes from her, and resolved to spend no more time thinking of her in that way. He picked up his toast, taking a bite from it in such a manner, one would have thought it personally offended him. As he shifted in his seat — thinking again of her tongue running across her lower lip caused him a bit of physical discomfort, he wondered how in the world was he supposed to manage a detention alone with her that evening. 

Suddenly his head snapped up, upon hearing the shouting coming from the Gryffindor table. 

“Because everyone, _everyone_ deserves a second chance, Ginny!” 

Granger was stood back from her seat, glaring at the Weasley girl. The hall went silent. 

It appeared Miss Weasley had not been thrilled with Granger’s companion. A poor mistake on Weasley’s part, Severus thought, to challenge her regarding the situation. If he knew anything of Hermione Granger, it was that the only thing that rivaled her formidable mind was perhaps her bleeding heart. Every professor was made aware of her foolish attempts to free the House Elves during her fourth and fifth years. The Elves made enough formal complaints regarding cleaning the Gryffindor common room. Not to mention, those ridiculous buttons she tried to hand out to the student body. Of course, Dumbledore never acted on the situation, and found the whole ordeal rather amusing. 

“Yes, Hermione. We’re all more than aware of how fond you are of second chances,” Weasley hissed, and for some reason, the girls’ eyes both flickered at the head table, landing directly on him. 

What the fuck was that about, he wondered?

Granger’s reaction to that statement shocked him even more. She reached for her wand quicker than he would have thought possible and pointed it directly in Weasley’s face. 

“Enough, Ginny!” she yelled. 

Severus was so taken aback, he for a moment forgot that he was a professor, and should have been putting a stop to this. The entire situation was so out of character for the girl, it seemed his colleagues also were at a loss, and were watching the girls just as he was. Someone had to act. Granger’s actions thus far, and they were only two days into the term, were proving unpredictable. He was sure if he did not intervene, she may have hexed the girl. 

“Miss Granger,” Severus said, just loud enough for her to have heard, but did not shout. 

He watched her eyes widen, as if she only just then seemed to realize what she was doing. She looked at her wand, then back to him, before lowering it. 

“I’m — I’m sorry Professor,” she sputtered. 

Surely he should have been angry. Why wasn’t he angry? He would have been seething if any other student behaved the way Granger had been in that moment. But when he saw her look around the room, her entire face bright red with everyone staring at her, he actually felt sorry for the girl. He knew what it felt like to have the eyes of all the students on him. Some deep down protective instinct in him wanted to snatch her up, and hide her in his robes. 

When he made at involuntary step off the dias, Granger turned heel and bolted from the hall. A low buzz of chatter broke out across the room. He looked to McGonagall, whom he could tell was concerned. 

“Would you mind, Severus?” she asked, inclining her head towards the door. 

“Minerva,” Severus responded, making sure to lace his voice with just the right amount of annoyance. Truthfully, he wanted to go after her, but Minerva could not know that. 

“Severus, please. Check on the girl. You and I both know her behavior has been shockingly unlike her. Perhaps you have something you could give her? A calming draught?” 

He did his best to feign disinterest as he curled his lip. “Certainly, Headmistress.” 

As he crossed the hall, he heard snippets of what the students whispered around him. 

“ _Gone mental, that one_.”

“ _Uh oh, Snape is going after her. Granger’s done for_.” 

“ _Snapped after the war, I reckon_.” 

Severus couldn’t help but to roll his eyes. If they’d only known what the girl had gone through during the previous year. Of course he’d known of the horrific details of her capture at Malfoy Manor. That insane witch Bellatrix nearly wet herself with pleasure at what she’d done to her. Not to mention, Granger, Potter and Weasley spent nearly an entire year living in a tent, living off of whatever they could scavenge. Obviously the girl wouldn't had been the same. He would have been willing to wager nearly all of them would have died if they had been in her shoes. 

He stepped out into the entrance hall looking around for any sign of her, but she was nowhere in sight. 

***

She felt like a first year all over again. Sitting in the loo, crying, feeling exceptionally foolish and lonely. Especially without Harry or Ron. If she had the choice between absurd mood swings, and going back to feeling nothing at all, she might have chosen nothing. At least that way she didn’t make a complete fool of herself. Not to mention, she probably earned herself another detention, if the look on Snape’s face had been anything to go by. 

Hermione wiped her cheeks, and stood with a shaky breath. She wasn’t sure why she reacted the way she did. Yes, Ginny did come off condescending, when asking her why she would ever forgive Malfoy, but it wasn’t as if she shouldn’t have anticipated that response. Plus, she should have been used to Ginny’s attitude by that point. It had been extremely sour for months. She would apologize to her later, but for now, all Hermione wanted to do was find some place to be alone. She didn’t feel much like attending her morning classes. 

As she stuck her head out of the doorway, she froze. Hermione would have recognized the swish of those black robes anywhere. Snape was stalking down the corridor, not far from where she stood. Her heart began beating quickly as she watched him walk away, not very much in the mood to deal with his ire with her at that moment. She had a whole evening’s worth of detention to put up with that later on. 

Quietly she waited until she saw him round a corner, then quickly rushed from her spot in the doorway, and headed towards the one place she knew she’d be guaranteed to be alone, The Room of Requirement. 

When she got inside, the room conjured her up a space with a large bookshelf set beside a four-poster bed, much like the one in her dormitory, in front of a crackling fire. It was just what she needed. She would have liked to have read one of the many books, but annoyingly she felt another one of her migraines coming on. So instead, she settled on cozying up beneath the blankets, and resting her eyes in the hopes of it going away. 

*** 

Severus had a difficult time focusing on teaching. By the time his fourth year students arrived for his final lesson of the day, instead of brewing, he set them all an essay on Polyjuice Potion, in the hopes of keeping them all quiet, and limiting the amount of work he’d have to do for the hour. 

He sat at his desk, attempting to grade the second years’ homework assignments, but his mind kept wandering away to Granger. It irked him horribly how that insufferable know-it-all continued to cloud his mind, but he just couldn’t shake the feeling of worry he had, since he was not able to find her after breakfast. It only intensified when she wasn’t seen during lunch, and then when he overheard in the staff lounge that she hadn’t attended any of her classes that morning either. Just more instances of the girl behaving strangely. For her, anyway. 

Well, he thought, she surely wouldn’t skip her detention that evening. That he was positive of. 

After the lesson was finished, and the class had been dismissed, Severus decided to take a walk around the castle. He told himself it was to stretch his legs, and get his required exercise in, but he wasn’t fooling himself. He knew he was really searching for Granger. 

He made several circuits of the school, and had not seen her anywhere. When it finally became dark, and he’d just finished his third trip into the library, his stomach growled. He supposed he should get some dinner in, before he would supervise the girl’s detention. 

As he sat at the head of the Great Hall, Minerva gave him a look, which he knew conveyed concern. She raised her eyebrow slightly as her lips pressed together. Her eyes flickered to the Gryffindor table, which was missing a mess of unruly brown hair. Granger had skipped dinner as well. 

“Please let me know if Miss Granger arrives for her detention, will you, Severus?” Minerva asked him. 

Severus nodded once, wondering if she _would_ show. 

*** 

Hermione’s eyes opened slowly, and she thanked the heavens above that her migraine was gone. She hoped she hadn’t slept too long, and would still at least make it to her afternoon classes on time. 

She threw the covers off of her, and rolled to her side, picking her watch up off of the table next to her bed. When she saw the time, she sat up straight. It was seven-thirty! Not only had she missed _all_ of her classes, she slept through lunch, and had just missed dinner as well. 

Hermione cradled her head in her hands, groaning. She hadn’t slept through her classes since her third year, when she overextended herself using that blasted Time-Turner. Surely she was going to be in loads of trouble for skiving out of her second day of classes. 

Trouble! Her head snapped back up. 

“Merlin! My detention!” 

She’d completely forgotten about it while panicking over sleeping the day away. 

Hermione hopped out of the bed, grabbed her school bag, and ran from the Room of Requirement, not caring if anyone saw her leave. That would have been all she’d have to do; arrive late to a detention with Snape, after arriving late to his class the previous day. 

She still had about twenty minutes until it was scheduled, she thought, as she briskly walked through the school, so she would arrive a little early. Which was much better than running late. 

A few people attempted to speak to her on the way down, one of them being Dean Thomas, who wanted to make sure she was okay. Hermione hurried away as politely as she could have, after asking him to let Ginny and Neville know that she was fine. 

With ten minutes to spare, she arrived to the Potions classroom. Her heart pounded, and she knew the response went beyond her quick pace through the castle. Nervous would have been an understatement; she felt as if she could have vomited. 

When she poked her head in, her greeting died in her throat. Turned away from her in front of his desk, rubbing some kind of salve on his scarred neck, was a very shirtless Professor Snape. 

She knew she should have walked away, and pretended to not arrive for another few minutes, but she couldn’t seem to take her eyes from him. She was mesmerized by the lean muscles in his back, rippling as he raised his arm to rub in the solution. The striking contrast of his pale skin against the black of his hair was somewhat beautiful, she found herself thinking. 

Involuntarily, she took a step forward, watching his forearms as he reached the back of his neck. There was always something about the forearms of a man she found somewhat sexy. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly felt dry. 

Her body felt hot while watching something that she knew was completely forbidden. She should not have been witnessing any of this, but that somehow made it a bit exciting. That minor attraction she held for the man seemed to be building, upon seeing him this vulnerable, and in a very human light. 

Suddenly Snape whipped his body around when Hermione’s shoe scuffed the floor. She was caught. She stood, rooted to the spot, her face flaming with embarrassment of being caught more or less ogling her Professor. 

“Miss Granger!” he hissed, reaching for his white shirt which was slung over the back of the chair beside him. “Explain yourself!” 

Everything inside her wanted to melt into the ground, as he hastily threw the shirt over his head. She didn’t know what to say. It had been one of the few times in Hermione’s life that she had been completely speechless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! 
> 
> So I know I wasn’t going to post early, but I have no self control lol. 
> 
> And I didn’t _technically_ lie when I said the detention was coming in chapter 5. We did arrive to our detention, after all. :p 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! I’m having a lot of fun writing this one, and I’m super excited to keep sharing it with you! 
> 
> Hope everyone is well, and thank you again for all the love and kind words <33 
> 
> Have a great weekend!! *hugs*


	6. Chapter 6

Severus was furious. Hadn’t she already seen enough, known too much? Now she had to catch him again at a weak moment? Besides, he was already irritated with her for going missing the entire day, causing him to worry — why, he still had no idea — when he’d made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t have given two shits about an individual ever again in his life. 

The girl was actually gawking, he realized. How surprising. No one ever had _that_ look in their eyes when seeing him partially undressed before. He momentarily tried to push down the thrill he felt at her witnessing him exposed. 

After he pulled his shirt over his head and demanded for her to explain herself, he noticed her hand was at her neck, and again she appeared flushed. Her mouth was just barely parted opened. All telltale signs of arousal. He felt the response to that realization with a twitch of his mutanous prick, but tried to ignore that for now. He had more pressing matters at hand. 

“Why have you been watching me, Granger?” he demanded. 

He wasn’t pulling any punches, and wanted to make the girl aware that he had noticed her incessant staring since the Welcoming Feast. 

Granger blinked twice before taking a step back. 

“I — I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.” 

Her voice cracked, and even if he hadn’t known she was lying, that would have given her away. He took a step closer. 

“Don’t lie to me,” he hissed. “The first night in the Great Hall. Yesterday at breakfast. Again this morning with Miss Weasley.” 

She flinched, just barely. But it had not escaped his notice. Years spent as a spy left him with the uncanny ability to note even the smallest changes of a person’s mannerisms.

“Yes, we’ll be discussing that as well.” His lip curled as he took another step towards her. 

Granger apparently was not backing down. She adjusted her weight, standing straight, and set her jaw, raising her head to look directly into his eyes. He tried not to let himself become distracted by the depths of them. 

“Again. I don’t know what you’re talking about, _sir_ ,” she had the nerve to say. 

A rush of anger flew through him. There was nothing more he hated than being deliberately lied to, especially when the other person _knew_ he was aware they were lying. 

“You’re lying, Granger. And I want to know why,” he snapped. 

This girl certainly knew how to get a rise out of him. But why was he finding that so appealing? 

He took a third step forward. She still stood her ground. 

“For the third time; I don’t know what you’re talking about, Professor.” 

She was stubborn, this one. Maybe as stubborn as he, which would prove rather… annoying actually. But he would get to the bottom of this. He always did. 

“Are you disgusted by me?” he asked. 

Her eyes widened. “Of course not!” 

How odd. Granger appeared to have meant that, he thought. Nevertheless...

“Do you think of me the same as some of your classmates? That I am nothing more than a Death Eater who got off easy? That I murdered Albus Dumbledore in cold blood?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t be ridiculous, sir,” she scoffed. “We both know that I am well aware of what your true allegiance was.” 

That appeared genuine as well. 

“Then perhaps you feel I should have died by that snake’s attack? That you feel it’s unfair I had survived, when better men and women did not?” he sneered. 

He was taken aback by her response to that last question. Her mouth popped opened and he heard her sharp intake of breath. Her eyes seemed to frost over as she grit her teeth. He couldn’t recall ever seeing her look so angry. His own chest was heaving. It felt like they were dangerously close to crossing some intangible line. 

Her eyes narrowed as she balled her fists. “How dare you!” she shouted. 

For only a second, his normally carefully placed mask slipped, when he realized it appeared as if she wanted to slap him. The twitch of her hand more than suggested it. He might have laughed if he wasn’t so astonished by her reaction. 

“How dare I?” he roared. 

“Yes!” Her expression was almost manic. “How dare you! You — you… miserable, insufferable _bastard_!” 

*** 

She had really done it now. The phrase _if looks could kill_ briefly crossed her mind. She’d be in detention for the rest of the year, for sure. If he didn’t throttle her first, that was. 

“What did you just say to me?” he whispered dangerously. 

Well, she’d already gone this far. 

“What I said, Professor, is that you are a miserable bastard. How _dare_ you assume I think those things.” 

How could he have thought she wished him dead? If it hadn’t been for her, he would have been. But no. No. Of course he had not known that. Still, the fact that he even thought that, after the hell she went through to keep him alive, infuriated her. 

Snape closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“What have I told you about speaking to me again in that manner?” he asked in a chillingly low voice. 

Hermione wasn’t scared. A part of her knew that was an empty threat. For whatever reason, right then and there, they did not feel like student and professor. 

“You’re not going to have me expelled,” she challenged. 

He raised an eyebrow as he took a fourth step towards her. He was now so close that she could feel his breath on her face. Her heart pounded, and again that evening, her mouth went completely dry. 

Even though it was the wrong time to think of how shockingly pleasant it was, she couldn’t help but notice his scent. Sandalwood, mint, and something earthy, almost like moss, with a slight hint of Muggle cigarettes. 

Snape towered over her, looking as imposing and threatening than ever. But she wasn’t letting him get to her. She was long passed that. 

“Where were you all day?” he asked sharply, taking her off guard by the sudden change of subject. 

Why would he care, she wondered? Also, why would she tell him? It wasn’t as if she missed his class that day. Besides, she was not about to tell him about the migraines. She did not tell anyone about them, actually. Not as if it would have concerned him. 

““I — I was-“ 

“Why did both you and Miss Weasley clearly direct your attention to me, when she accused you of being fond of second chances?” he cut her off. 

No. No way she could have explained that. She could have killed Ginny Weasley, she thought angrily. 

“I don’t really see how that is any of your business, sir,” she replied coolly. 

That was a mistake. Snape’s nostrils flared, and she watched that fire she saw on her first day of class come into his eyes. She had to admit, it was sort of exciting getting such a rise out of the man. 

Without warning he reached for her, gripping her biceps, and again pressing himself against her. 

Hermione’s pulse raced, as she again felt a reaction to the contact with the man. Especially after witnessing him partially naked, and taking into account the way he seemed to get the adrenaline pumping through her for the first time in months. It took all of her restraint to keep from acting on some silly hormonal impulse the contact seemed to bring out in her. She bit down on her bottom lip. 

His glare was intense and blazing, as he looked down at her. His black eyes almost hypnotic. 

“Why did you return here?” he asked so softly, she wasn’t even sure she was meant to have heard it. 

Still, hormones aside, her anger hadn’t completely dissipated. And before she could stop herself, once again words that did not even seem as if they had come from her came spewing out of her mouth. 

“To do nothing more but stare at the great and powerful Professor Snape, apparently,” she hissed.

His eyes somehow became even blacker. 

“Why you little—“

“Little what, sir? What could you _possibly_ say to insult me that you haven’t already in the past?” she sneered. 

His grip tightened. 

Why she suddenly had not been able to hold her tongue when it came to the man, she had no idea. She wasn’t lying when she said she wanted him to have a peaceful life, but there was something about him this term that caused her to lash out. It was like she was becoming addicted to the rush that fighting with him had given her. 

As she watched his shoulders stiffen, and heard him exhale, she braced herself for his reaction. 

Snape squeezed her arms almost painfully, then shoved her away. 

“Get out of my sight, Granger,” he ordered. “Your detention is at an end.” 

With a dramatic swish of his robes, Snape turned away from her. She stood frozen for a moment. 

“Certainly, Professor,” she huffed, feeling out of breath for some reason, still with her eyes on his back. 

He reached a door at the back corner of his classroom, which she assumed went to his private quarters. She winced as the door slammed behind him, then Hermione finally turned to leave.

*** 

How dare _he_ , he thought he a blinding rage, how dare _she_? Severus paced in front of his fireplace, cigarette in hand. He took one last drag, before whipping it into the fire. 

Why _did_ she have to return there, he wondered, not for the first time since her arrival. Her presence in his life was already proving troublesome. He had basically just manhandled a student; argued with her as if she were a peer. And he had inappropriate physical reactions to her, which he was uncomfortably still feeling at that moment. 

Her fire and intensity, that thus far that term he had witnessed three times — in his classroom that first day, while yelling at Miss Weasley, and just moments beforehand — captivated him. It wasn’t the first time that a passionate Gryffindor had caught his attention. Why he found himself drawn to that, he would never know. 

Not that he was comparing Granger to Lily. That part of his life was over. He would always have love for Lily, but, contrary to what Potter may have assumed from his memories, he was certainly not still _in love_ with her. But he wasn’t foolish enough to have not noticed certain similarities between the two women. 

Severus had a _type_ , it seemed. 

As he settled into bed, he could not get the image of Granger watching him, when she first entered his office, out of his head. He inexplicably felt an attraction towards her, regardless of how angry she made him. Perhaps that was part of it, the attraction. The fact that she had been able to get him to _feel_ something again. The annoying erection which had not dissipated was proof of that. 

Angrily he punched his pillow, attempting to flatten it into a more comfortable position, before turning on his side. Severus closed his eyes, resolving that it would have been the final time that he’d allow Granger any more space in his head. 

*** 

When Hermione got back into her room, her anger had finally calmed down. The long walk back to Gryffindor tower seemed to have helped. 

She shouldn’t have spoken to him in that manner. Regardless of her age, and the secret knowledge that she had saved him, he was still her professor, and she ought to have known to watch her mouth. 

She should apologize, she thought. Clearly she was out of line. Not now, however. She was sure he’d skin her alive if she showed her face in his classroom again that evening. Tomorrow, perhaps. After class. 

A shiver ran through her at the thought of Potions class the following day. How would treat her, after their row that evening? Certainly not well, she assumed. Oh well, she would just try to make it through class, offer an apology, and then attempt to hold her tongue in his presence after that. She would not make herself a nuisance any longer. 

However… Did she want to lose that newfound thrill she had found in goading him? Even then, as she settled into bed, she still felt the after effects of their argument. Of being locked in his grip, with his fiery glare burning into her. 

It had been months since her blood raced, her stomach tightened, and a pulsing yearning thumped between her legs. _He_ had done that to her. Did she want it to stop? 

Bugger it all, she began growing even more uncomfortable, well… down _there_. An image of Snape’s bare back entered her mind, causing the discomfort to intensify. She thought of the gentle rippling as he massaged his ointment into his neck, wondering what his long fingers would have felt like. 

She flopped onto her stomach, switched to her side, and then finally on her back, attempting to get comfortable. Trying to mentally translate some more difficult Runes in her head to distract herself did not seem to be working. All she could think of was Snape, and the effect he seemed to have on her. 

No, she could not have chased this rush he’d given her. It would have been just another unhealthy coping mechanism to add to the plethora of ones she’d already developed. She would apologize to him, then go back to her studies in peace, just as she planned. Snape would not occupy her mind any longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! 
> 
> Apparently I’m throwing my “schedule” out the window. But it’s been nearly a week since the last update, and I know a lot of you have been waiting for detention, so I figured I’d post it. :) I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! 
> 
> I’m not going to lie, this fic I’m sure might have some 8th Year clichés in it, and I hope you all don’t mind. It’s basically a “for fun” project that I’m working on, and I _am_ having a lot of fun writing it. Usually I try not to make things _too_ cliché when I write them, but then I’m also the type to binge read 87 fics with the same tropes in them, so... why not add a similar-ish fic for the readers out there like me lol. 
> 
> Anyhoo, again, I hope you enjoyed it. And thank you all again for all the love! You’re legit all the best, and I heart you so much <33 
> 
> Have a great weekend, everyone!!


	7. Chapter 7

Severus scowled at his breakfast, very much in a bad temper, after waking up even more uncomfortable than when he’d gone to sleep. He settled on a quick wank in his shower that morning, but was not feeling anywhere near satisfied. All he wanted to do was eat in peace. 

“Severus,” Minerva greeted him as she sat down. 

He merely grunted. 

“Did Miss Granger arrive for her detention?” she asked. 

Damn it all to hell, he’d completely forgotten he was supposed to inform her if the girl had made it or not. After the events of the previous evening, making a floo call to the Headmistress was the last thing on his mind. 

He nodded, not removing his eyes from his plate. 

“Well, did you find out where she had disappeared to the entire day?” Minerva pressed on. 

“No,” he grumbled. 

The last thing he wanted to do was discuss Granger. He’d already promised himself that he would no longer unnecessarily think of the girl. He hoped from his tone that Minerva would have taken the hint and dropped it. 

“I’ll speak with her,” she said sharply, clearly annoyed with his lack of assistance. 

But thankfully, she dropped the subject. 

His eyes, seemingly of their own accord, glanced to the students in the hall, and landed on the wild curls of that pain in his arse. How strange, he thought. Today she sat on the opposite side of the Gryffindor table, with her back facing the head table. It appeared she and Miss Weasley had not made amends, considering the red head was sat several seats away making conversation with a girl from her year group. Granger seemed to be eating alone. 

Not entirely unusual for her, however. She had been known in the past to take some meals by herself. Usually when her two moron friends were not speaking to her for whatever childish reason, or during revision periods. Perhaps the girl had been like him in a way, and had not minded the solitude. However, this seemed different. Her posture, the slumped shoulders, and once more with an arm wrapped around her torso. The girl appeared just… defeated. 

Yet again he felt sympathetic towards her. What the fuck was going on with him?

“Minerva,” he said suddenly. 

She looked away from Flitwick, who she had been in mid-conversation with, and raised her eyebrows expectantly. 

“Although she did not explicitly mention it, it did appear Miss Granger was under the weather yesterday. I see no need for you to speak with her, regarding her absences.” 

Where the bloody fucking hell had that come from?! 

Well, he thought, she did appear as if she had been having a rough go of it, since the start of term — which he hadn’t helped, he added. And, she had been through a lot within the last year… 

Merlin, was he going soft? 

Minerva’s face registered her shock, and he wondered if she just had the same thought run through her mind. 

“The girl was under the Cruciatus Curse for an extended period of time last spring, was she not?” she asked quietly. 

He cocked an eyebrow. Why would she have asked…? Ah. Migraines, he realized. He had suffered from them as well, and knew how debilitating they could have become. Until he came up with a potion that aided the after effects of the blasted curse, that was. That could have been a possibility. 

“From what I understand, yes, she was,” he said. 

Minerva nodded. “I’ll still speak with her, Severus, thank you.” 

He dipped his head with a hum of agreement, and continued on with his meal without another word. Just as he intended. 

 

*** 

Well, Hermione’s morning certainly could have gone better. Ginny was still giving her the cold shoulder, apparently not over the way Hermione had shouted at her in front of everyone. Or disappearing for the entire day, causing her friends to worry. She ate breakfast alone, once more feeling like it was her first year all over again. Funny it was, how many things changed, yet some had stayed the same. 

If only Neville had been there, but she knew he was with Professor Sprout that morning, taking on extra work for an apprenticeship with her. Rumor had it that Sprout was intending on retiring within the next few years, and was really pulling for Neville to be her successor. 

At least someone had their future figured out, she thought. Hermione still hadn’t the foggiest of what she wanted to do once she left the school. But, she was confident that she would figure it out eventually. She still had several months of schooling to go, after all. 

As she ate, she fought the urge to turn around and glance up at the staff’s table. Her fight with Snape replayed many times in her head as she tried to sleep, and again that morning. However, she made the decision when she entered the Great Hall that morning to sit opposite from where she normally did, that way eliminating the easy access to look at Snape. She knew it wouldn’t have been welcomed, and with this sudden interest she had taken in him, she hadn’t been sure if she would have been able to help herself. 

Hermione was so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed the hall was nearly empty. Classes would begin soon, so she needed to hightail it, lest she would have risked being late to another class. 

 

When she walked into Defense Against the Dark Arts, Ginny had taken a seat next to Neville, leaving the only remaining empty spot to be the one near… oh bugger. 

“Looks like we’re seat mates today, Granger,” said Malfoy, moving his things aside to give Hermione room. 

Ginny glanced back and scowled, which Hermione found entirely unfair. If she hadn’t wished for Hermione to become friendly with Draco Malfoy, then maybe she should have allowed Hermione to sit in her original seat. 

“It appears so,” Hermione said, as she sat down next to him. 

Professor Jenkins — she made it a point to learn his name before class, since it didn’t register with her on the first day — seemed to have been running late that morning. Hermione internally groaned. Although she had forgiven Malfoy, she still wasn’t in the mood for forced conversations, after her horrid evening the night before. 

“Are you alright, Granger?” Malfoy shocked the pants off of her by asking. 

If she hadn’t known his voice that well after eight years, she might have not even known it was him who asked. 

Hermione’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?” 

“Well, you went missing after your shouting match with Weasley, and I’ve never known you to miss classes. Your annoying perfect attendance is almost legendary.” 

He shrugged, while giving her a half-smile. 

His shoulders looked tense, she noted as she looked at him. Also, he sat as far from her as the desk allowed. Even though he tried to play it off as if he was at ease, she could tell that Malfoy had been somewhat uncomfortable with their newfound truce as well. She supposed after so many years of disdain and downright dislike for one another, the civility probably would have taken a while to get used to. 

“I’m alright, Malfoy,” she lied. “I was just feeling a bit ill, that’s all.” 

Second part of her answer, not technically a lie. 

Just as Malfoy looked as if he was about to respond, Professor Jenkins hobbled into the room. Hmm. She didn’t realize the squat man walked with a limp. Perhaps that was from the war? 

“Good morning, class,” he greeted them in a gruff voice. “Sorry for my tardiness, was held up by Professor Trelawney. Woman could talk a niffler off of a treasure chest,” he joked. 

The class gave half-hearted chuckles, and when she looked to Malfoy, who rolled his eyes, she snorted. 

Jenkins, however, thought Hermione really appreciated his humor and gave her a crooked smile. 

“Merlin’s balls,” Malfoy said under his breath. “Can’t they ever find a normal one for this class?”

She had to admit, the man was rather odd looking. Slightly bulging eyes and a bad combover. His robes had an obnoxiously loud yellow and orange checkered pattern, reminding her of the greasy man who sold her father their automobile several years prior. With all the magic in the world at his disposal, being a wizard and all, she would have thought there would have been better hair alternatives, if one were to suddenly find themselves becoming bald. 

Hermione covered her mouth with her hand to keep from laughing aloud, while giving Malfoy a gentle kick under the desk. 

“Stop,” she hissed with a giggle. 

She caught his smirk out of the corner of her eye. 

For the rest of the class, Malfoy behaved. Jenkins picked up with their lesson from the previous class. That was right, they began Patronuses. Now she remembered. Being as they were all NEWT students, and the Professor was aware most of the class had already conjured them — thanks to Harry teaching everyone in Dumbledore’s Army her fifth year, he felt he’d begin the year with the charm, as opposed to saving it for later, as most other classes have done in previous years. 

 

Class had ended, and was rather boring actually. No practical work yet, just a lecture with lots of note taking. After she packed her things, she stood and stretched out her back. It was going to take some getting used to, sitting for so long at a time again. 

Hermione and Malfoy wordlessly walked out of the class together, and Hermione was pleasantly surprised to see Luna waiting outside for her. 

“Hello, Hermione. Hello, Draco,” Luna said lightly, as if greeting Draco Malfoy every day was a regular occurrence for her. 

But, judging by the shocked look on Malfoy’s face, Hermione assumed it wasn’t. 

Malfoy cleared his throat. “Erm — Luna,” he bowed his head slightly in greeting. 

As the three were stood out in the corridor, Hermione noticed Ginny’s unmistakable red hair blow past them. 

“You two are still off, I take it?” Luna asked, as she also watched Ginny walk away. 

Hermione nodded. “It’ll be alright, though. It isn’t the first time we’ve had words,” she said, thinking of the argument the pair had gotten into in the Gryffindor common room, what felt like eons ago, during Hermione’s sixth year. 

“Luna, look,” Malfoy blurted out suddenly, as if he couldn’t contain himself. “I’m sorry for…” he trailed off. 

Hermione’s eyebrows raised. Draco Malfoy, apologizing again? 

Luna gave Malfoy a small smile. “You didn’t have a choice before, Draco. But, now you do. Make your choices wisely,” she told him. 

Her tone did not match her words, however. She sounded like she was advising him on something as unimportant as what to wear. Then she turned and began to skip down the corridor. 

“Coming?” she called back. 

Hermione and Malfoy locked eyes for a moment, and Hermione just shrugged. He let out a shaky laugh, and then Hermione found herself walking to her Charms class with the most unlikely pair she could have imagined. 

 

The rest of her morning was more or less uneventful. Her classes consisted of more note taking than she ever remembered, and by the time she reached lunch, her fingers were exceptionally cramped. 

Ginny once again avoided her, but she spent the lunch hour having a nice chat with Neville, who was beaming over his private lessons with Professor Sprout. She was truly happy to see the man that Neville was growing into. Long gone were the days of him being meek and unsure of himself. Now he was confident, and more outgoing than she ever remembered. Even to the point where he had asked Hannah Abbott to be his date on their first Hogsmeade visit that term — Hermione had no idea Neville was sweet on her until he told her this. 

After lunch, instead of going to the library, Hermione took a walk around the grounds, in the hopes that would hold off one of her migraines, and ensure she was on time for Snape’s lesson. Arriving late again, or skiving it off completely, she was sure would not have gone well for her. 

It was a somewhat pleasant day. Not exactly sunny, but at least it hadn’t been raining. The air was that perfect mix of warm, yet with a hint of the autumn chill creeping in. She was amazed to see, as she walked, just how much of the castle had been restored. If the first years hadn’t known of the war, she assumed none of them would have ever realized one occurred at the school. Even the Quidditch Pitch looked pristine. 

Thinking of the war again caused Hermione to wrap her arms around herself hugging tightly. Every time she thought of that night, that _terrible_ night, it felt like she was actually coming apart at the seams, and the only way to keep herself together was by physically holding herself together. She had been too young to have witnessed that much death and destruction. And she knew that those images would haunt her, most likely, for the rest of her life. 

She now understood the vacant look that would come into her grandfather’s eyes, as he recounted stories from the Second World War. He, too, had been young, much, much too young when he enlisted. Just eighteen, from what she remembered him telling her. She wondered if when she was old and grey, her eyes would also still hold the ghosts of those horrors from so long ago. 

 

Hermione paused for a moment, before entering Snape’s classroom. She knew it was going to be awkward, in more ways than one. Ginny still wasn’t speaking to her, Luna hadn’t moved on into NEWT level Potions, and of course, Snape himself. Regardless, Hermione was not about to show weakness. She had done that enough. Lifting her chin, and holding her head high, she marched right into the room. 

When she entered, however, that brief spurt of bravery faltered when she saw Snape sat at his desk in the front of the room. Shit, she thought, she had completely forgotten that her seat was directly in front of him. 

She squared her shoulders, no, she was not a child, and she refused to make one — well, technically two, if she counted that encounter in the corridor the other evening, tense moments with Snape stop her from acting normally. Hermione walked to her seat, took out her belongings, and waited patiently for class to start, just like everyone else. 

*** 

He was very much aware of when _she_ entered his classroom. Watching her overdo it, with attempting to appear calm and brave nearly caused him to crack a smile. _Nearly_. If she thought she fooled him, the girl was sorely mistaken. He noticed the brief hesitation in her step, as it seemed to dawn on her that her seat was directly in front of his. Damn it all to hell, why did he seat her there? Severus stopped himself from rolling his eyes, as she sat erect in her seat, trying to appear eager to learn. But, he knew that if he had been dreading this class all day, Granger surely had been as well. 

“Settle down,” he called out.

Not that he ever had need to. Over the years he had built himself a reputation, and had instilled a healthy amount of fear in his students. Class was nearly always silent, but still, he said it. 

As he paced in front of the class giving out his lecture for the day’s brew, he actively tried not to look at Granger. Although, occasionally he’d slip. More than once he noticed that maddening habit of the girl gently biting her lower lip, and he almost choked when the sudden thought of how he wanted to bite it, popped into his head. 

Why? Why had that thought come into his mind on more than one occasion? He had to get a grip. Granger was a student. An annoying, insufferable, pain in his arse student. 

With a wave of his wand, he set the instructions on the board and prepared to spend the rest of the hour carefully monitoring the accidents waiting to happen before him. They would be brewing Pepper-Up Potion, which was a notoriously difficult potion to make. Therefore, he was sure there would have been at least a student or two who completely botched it up. The Mandrake Root could prove quite volatile if not added properly. 

He walked around the room as the students worked, actively avoiding one desk in particular. Just as he resigned himself to check on Granger, he noticed a burning smell, and caught the thick red vapor from the side of his eye. Idiots, he thought, as he turned to see who fucked up already. 

“Weasley!” he barked. The red-head jumped. 

“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know what happened!” 

Severus stood before her scrunching his nose. The small was nauseating. He was a bit shocked when he saw it was Weasley, however. Normally, and he would have never admitted it aloud, the girl was quite competent. 

“I do,” he hissed. “What part of slowly did you not understand, Miss Weasley, when it came to adding the Fire Seeds?” 

He heard a soft snort from across the room. He suspected Granger. And from the look on Weasley’s face, as she glared at her friend, he assumed he was correct. 

“Ten points from Gryffindor,” he sneer, as he waved his wand, vanishing her potion. “And no marks for today.” 

The girl’s entire face went crimson. “Sir!” 

Severus was in no mood for a Weasley temper. Before she could argue with him further, he set upon her one of the best death glares he could manage. 

“Sit down, Miss Weasley. Before you earn yourself a detention.” 

With an annoyed huff, mercifully she listened. 

Damn students would be the end of him, he just knew it. The Dark Lord couldn’t take him out, but a heart attack from dealing with adolescent stupidity would have been sure to finish the job. 

 

When the hour was up, and the students were bringing their finished potions to his desk, he noticed Granger’s hand trembled just a bit. At first he wondered if it were due to nerves, but when he heard her sharp intake of breath, and her other hand immediately went for her forehead, he knew differently. 

Tremors accompanied her migraines, it seemed. He _did_ have a potion that could help the girl, but why would he want to help her? 

She packed her things clumsily, twice rubbing her temples. Seeing the obvious pain on her face stirred more sympathy, and before he could stop himself, he called out. 

“Miss Granger,” he said as the students filed out. “A word?” 

 

***

Oh not now, she internally whined. She felt as if her head could have exploded at any second. Her jaw was clenched tightly shut as she tried to keep the tears from coming. 

“Alright, sir,” she managed to feebly get out. 

Speaking was always unbearable during a migraine. She behaved perfectly in class, and brewed a perfect potion. What could he have possibly wanted? 

When the room finally cleared, Snape closed the door to his classroom with a flick of his wand. She could barely stand, the pain was becoming so intense. If he thought he would have another row with her, he was sadly mistaken. She would have collapsed before that happened. 

He did nothing at first, besides watch her, and she wasn’t sure if it was due to the migraine, or if she was going crazy, but she detected a small softening in his eyes. 

Her fatigue, plus the pain were reaching an alarming rate. She had to grip the back of her chair to remain upright. 

“Miss Granger?” he said, with a touch of concern in his voice. 

She leaned heavily on the desk, praying he’d notice she was unwell and let her go. 

“I’m fine, sir,” she lied in a feeble voice. 

Snape rolled his eyes. 

“Sit,” he ordered. 

Hermione immediately complied. Even if he hadn’t told her to sit, her legs were finally giving out on her at that moment anyhow. Standing another second would have been impossible. Damn it all, now she was stuck _there_ until it passed. And who knew how long that may have been. 

With her head resting on her desk, she heard Snape move to the back of the room. The clinking of the bottles he moved pounded like thunder in her head. What the hell was he doing? 

Thankfully he stopped and the room became silent, save for his footsteps approaching her. She jumped slightly when she felt his hand on her shoulder. 

“Here, Miss Granger,” he said in a soft voice. “Take this.” 

With much effort she raised her head, and saw Snape holding out a tiny vial of turquoise liquid. Her brow furrowed as she looked at it. 

“What’s this?” she whispered. 

Snape huffed impatiently. 

“Always with the questions. Just take it, Granger.” His voice a bit sharper than it was a moment before. 

Well, obviously he knew she was unwell, she thought. And even though nothing else she had found, or the healers had given her, kept away the migraines, she figured it wouldn’t have hurt to have tried. 

She reached out for the vial slowly, with a trembling hand. Fucking tremors, she thought sourly. He raised an eyebrow at her as she studied the potion, before unstoppering it, and bringing it to her lips. When the first drop hit her tongue, she nearly gagged. It was awful! The taste reminded her of the smell of rotten cabbage. Merlin, was he poisoning her?

“I suppose I could have warned you. It does not taste pleasant,” he said, and she thought she detected a hint of humor in his tone. Odd. 

“That’s an understatement,” she grumbled quietly. 

Then suddenly, her eyes widened. The pain… it was. It was _gone!_ She felt the strength slowly come back to her body, and when she held her hands out in front of her, they were completely still. Her head whipped up to look at Snape, who did not smile, but had an unfamiliar warmth in his eyes. 

“What _is_ this?” she asked. 

“The pain is gone?” he responded with a question of his own. 

“Yes! Yes, it is! Thank you, Professor!” 

She could have hugged him. She almost did, but thought better of it. That certainly would not have gone well. Plus, hug Professor Snape. She almost laughed. How ridiculous. 

“That is a potion of my own creation,” he told her, taking the vial from her hands. “I, as well, had once suffered the effects from the Cruciatus Curse.” 

Hermione’s face heated. She never told anyone. So how did he…? But of course he would have known what happened to her. She was sure the events of Malfoy Manor must have gotten back to him, when the Death Eaters still thought him as one of their own. 

It was remarkable how quickly his creation had worked. And how much better it had made her feel. She needed to get more of that potion. There hadn’t been anything that helped her like it. 

“Can you teach me how to make it?” she blurted out as he walked from her, to put the vial away. 

Knowing it was a long shot, and that he’d most likely turn her down, she had to ask anyway. His shoulders stiffened. She held her breath waiting for him to respond. Why was he taking so long to respond? 

“Sir, please? It’s been the only thing that has helped. I have to know how to make it,” she pleaded. 

He was going to turn her down. She knew it. After calling him a miserable bastard the evening before, why would he have owed her anything? 

“Yes,” he finally said. 

He said yes? No, she mustn’t have heard him correctly. 

“I’m sorry?” 

Snape turned around, and the familiar cold sneer she’d grown accustomed to was once again on his face. 

“The curse does not affect the ability to hear, Miss Granger. That I know.” 

Hermione ducked her head. “Sorry, sir. Thank you, I appreciate this more than you know.” 

He grunted. 

She was confident she would have been able to stand, without falling back down. But still, she took her time getting up, and placing her bag over her shoulder. For some reason, Snape watched her the entire time she did. She shivered in response. 

“When can we begin?” she asked. 

He turned from her, and reached into the drawer he retrieved the vial from, pulling out another. 

“We can begin tomorrow. Be here no later than nine o’clock.” 

Snape walked towards her, and again she felt… _something_ , when he was directly before her. 

“Here.” He handed a second vial to her. “Keep this with you in the meantime. There are two doses worth in there.” 

She couldn’t help but smile at the kind gesture. It was so unlike him. Or, was it? No one really _knew_ Professor Snape, did they? Everyone knew the spy, the teacher, the Death Eater, the traitor. But did anyone actually know _him?_

“Thank you, sir.” 

He waved off her thanks, and stood aside. It was her cue to leave. 

When she reached the door, she felt as if she’d forgotten something. Then it hit her. She turned around. 

“Oh! Sir?” 

Snape raised a eyebrow. “Yes?” 

She chewed her lip, hoping this didn’t muck up her chances of learning to brew the potion. 

“I… I just wanted to apologize for last night. I was completely out of line in the way I had spoken to you.” She paused, waiting for him to react. He didn’t. “I respect you, sir. And I know my tone, and my words were inappropriate. It won’t happen again.” 

His mask slipped for a second. If she wasn’t watching him carefully, she would have missed it, but she saw it. He was shocked by her words. She wondered if any other student ever told him they respected him before. Most likely not, she assumed. 

“Thank you, Miss Granger,” he surprised her by saying. “You may go now.” 

Hermione gave him a tentative smile. “Thank you, sir.” 

She left the classroom feeling like a weight was off her chest, now that she apologized. And, she had to admit, she was rather excited about learning a new potion. Not only because it would have helped her, but because she’d be studying it under the greatest Potions Master she was sure she’d ever know. 

Would she be able to handle it, she wondered? Not the work, she was more than confident in her abilities. No, she meant being near him again. Alone. Besides just then, the previous two encounters had been, well… intense. 

No, she told herself. Everything would be fine. She would squash down whatever these reactions were she had towards him. She would hold her tongue, and she would work quietly and diligently. She would not let him bait her at all. She would not think of his broken and bloody body, as she worked to keep him alive. Everything would be _fine_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! 
> 
> So not *too* much Snape/Hermione intense action in this chapter, but we’re getting the ball rolling for the fun(or angst, or hotness?) to begin. But I do love me some, “I care, but I’m pretending not to care, but here’s something showing that I kind of care, even though I’ll never admit I care” Severus Snape. So that’s what’s we got in this chapter lol. 
> 
> I am also total trash for the them brewing together trope (I _did_ warn this would be a cliché-fest lol), so I’m writing my take on that trope, as you can see. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! And thank you all so much for the love and for coming on this journey with me! I promise I won’t let myself get _too_ distracted by Pokémon Let’s Go (I went with Eevee), and make sure the next update will come within the regular amount of time. About a week or sooner. 
> 
> Love you all! Hope you all have great weekend!
> 
>  
> 
> **11/29**  
>  _Quick Update_
> 
>  
> 
> I fell just a teeny bit behind because of the holiday last week (and honestly, I spent over 60 hours playing Pokémon Let’s Go *hides face*), so I’m just a little late with the update. I’m tweaking the chapter, and will 1000% have it posted this weekend. Sorry for the delay! Damn holidays and video games lol. 
> 
> Love you all!


	8. Chapter 8

“Getting some _extra credit_ , Granger?” Malfoy asked, wagging his eyebrows when he saw her leaving Snape’s classroom. 

Hermione’s face briefly heated, as she rolled her eyes. “Don’t be gross, Malfoy.” 

Merlin, she sure seemed to be ending up with Draco Malfoy a lot that day. And shockingly, she didn’t find herself minding it all that much. He wasn’t as awful as she remembered. 

“So I’ve been wondering,” she began, as they started to walk the corridor. “Why did you come back?” 

The question had bothered her, and she didn’t think she would have had the opportunity to ask. But, now that they were somewhat friendly, she decided to take the chance. 

The smirk that was on his face quickly melted away, and his eyes became somber. 

“Didn’t know what else to do,” he said quietly. “With father… in Azkaban, and mother — well, mother isn’t the same.” 

Hermione felt a stab of sympathy for him. Not for his father being in prison. Truthfully, he deserved it. But for as much as she did not care for his arrogant mother, the fact remained that she deliberately lied to Voldemort, which in turn, ensured Harry survived. Even if the woman had done it for her own selfish reasons, Hermione would always be grateful that she saved Harry’s life. 

“Besides, what else could I have done? It’s not like I have the Malfoy name to fall back on any longer, and I never did get to finish my education properly. So… here I am.” 

She gave him a small smile, and reached to give a reassuring squeeze to his arm. 

“Well, like Luna said. Your choices are your own now, and it’s up to you take advantage of that.” 

Malfoy cleared his throat, and tried to make his expression become aloof once again. But she saw the sadness deep in his grey eyes. 

“What about you?” he asked. “Surely the Ministry must have been wetting themselves to employ _the_ Hermione Granger,” he said with a snort. 

Hermione sighed. He wasn’t wrong, she’d received multiple offers. Some even from Kingsley himself. But she always politely declined, insisting she wanted to earn her spot properly, by finishing her education. Something Ron always scoffed at. Another reason they never would have worked out. His attitude towards books and learning, and just anything that required academically applying yourself, was far from stellar. 

She shrugged. “I didn’t want any special treatment. I was not going to rely on fame. Whatever career I move on to, I want to know that I am fully qualified, and was not handed it, just because of fighting in a war.” 

Malfoy laughed. 

“You would have never made it in Slytherin.” 

Hermione cracked a smile. 

“I don’t know about that. Working hard and earning what you’ve got is every bit as ambitious as taking advantage of your connections. Just in a different way.” 

Malfoy seemed to ponder on that for a moment, before a devilish glimmer came into his eyes. 

“Maybe you’re right. And also, cursing someone to have the word _SNEAK_ permanently scarred across their face was a pretty Slytherin thing to do, too.” 

She bit her lip as she felt her face grow warm. 

“Yes, well…” 

For the rest of their walk, Hermione found herself having another surprisingly friendly chat with Malfoy. They spoke of possible careers they would want to move into, what they thought of their new Defense and Transfiguration professors, but seemed to skirt around anything pertaining to the last year of their lives. She imagined that Malfoy wouldn’t have wanted to relive his horrors any more than she wanted to relive hers. 

When the reached the stairway that would lead Hermione towards the Gryffindor common room, they parted ways stating that perhaps they would run into one another in the library later that evening. 

Hermione trekked up the steps hoping to run into Ginny. She wanted to sort things out with her. The whole fight had gone on long enough, as far as she was concerned. 

Luck seemed to be on her side when she stepped through the portrait hole, and saw Ginny sat on the couch in front of the fireplace. She looked up and locked eyes with Hermione, keeping her face neutral. Hermione attempted to break the ice by offering her a tentative smile. 

Deciding to be the bigger person, Hermione approached Ginny. 

“Can we talk?” 

Ginny’s shoulders dropped a hair before she nodded. 

“Alright.” 

The girls went into Hermione’s room for some privacy, and Ginny plopped down onto Hermione’s bed. She sat down across from her, and picked at her cuticle. 

“Ginny, I don’t want to fight,” she began. “I’m sorry for lashing out at you in front of everyone.” 

“I don’t want to fight either, Hermione,” Ginny said softly. “And… well, I suppose I could have handled the situation better.” 

Hermione was silently shocked. Ginny didn’t offer apologies freely, especially not as of late. 

“It’s just been so hard, you know?” Ginny continued. “With losing Fr— everyone.” Hermione knew that Ginny still had a difficult time even saying Fred’s name. Most of the Weasley’s did, for that matter. “And then to see you so chummy with _Malfoy_ of all people.” 

Hermione silently conjured a tissue, as she noticed a single tear roll down Ginny’s cheek, and handed it to her. 

“I understand, Gin. However, I firmly do believe in what McGonagall said. It’s a new era; a fresh start. And some people truly need to start over. I don’t think it would hurt to offer an olive branch.” 

Ginny snorted. “I suppose,” she agreed, albeit begrudgingly. 

“I don’t completely trust him,” Hermione admitted. “But I don’t see how alienating or isolating him will help anything. Maybe he’s changed.” She shrugged. “Or maybe he hasn’t. But I’m determined to give everyone the chance to prove themselves.” 

A half-smile formed on Ginny’s lips. 

“Well, you _were_ the only one who always trusted Snape; stuck up for him. And you were right, so…I’ll trust your judgement with Malfoy, I suppose.” 

Hermione smiled back. She was right. Every time Harry and Ron suspected Snape, _she_ was the one to tell them they’d been wrong in the past, so what would have made them correct then. She always had a feeling that there was more to their surly Potions Professor than they knew. And, well, her feelings proved justified. 

“Thanks, Gin” 

*** 

Why? _Why_ did he agree to teach her to brew that potion? What was he thinking? He would be _alone_ with the girl. He already developed some insane interest in her. Felt some pull towards her that he could not explain. The way her pain earlier that day twisted at his gut was something he had not felt towards another person in quite some time. 

Severus rested his head on the back of his sofa as he blew a puff of smoke out of his mouth. For the last several hours he had been chastising himself for his decision. 

What was this… this, whatever this was that had him drawn to her? From the first night of term, when he studied her pretending to eat her dinner, to when her body was pressed against his in that dark corridor, their fight in his classroom, and her apology that afternoon, the girl was getting under his skin. He could not allow it. 

He took another drag from his cigarette, then a drink of his whiskey. Perhaps he could have drown the feelings away, like he did with everything else. He swirled the liquid around the glass, thinking that the color reminded him of something. 

Her eyes. Those light brown, trusting eyes. They suddenly popped into his head. Something about them tugged at his memory, but he couldn’t place why. There was something about them that made him feel… he wasn’t sure. 

Maybe he should cancel, he considered for the dozenth time that evening. It wasn’t right for him to take such an interest in a student, regardless of her age. 

No. Who was he trying to fool? He wanted that time with her. Perhaps the more time he spent with her, it would make the silly pull he felt towards her dissipate. Merlin knew Granger could be insufferable, and if he spent enough time with her, she would go back to irritating the pants off of him. 

Severus flicked his cigarette into the hearth, and made his way to his bedroom. 

Blasted girl, he thought sourly as he settled into bed. He was more than prepared for a normal, boring year for once. He hadn’t anticipated this… distraction. 

As he closed his eyes, the image of her glowing face, as she smiled up at him after taking the potion, formed in his mind. The last conscious thought he had, was that it was something of pure beauty. 

*** 

Hermione’s final day of lessons for the week were not too bad. She had a rather enjoyable Transfiguration lesson, with the new Professor Doge, who was the great-niece of Elphias, and just as pleasant. Arithmancy was always fascinating to her, and proved to be an interesting hour. 

But Herbology ended up being her favorite of the day. Considering it consisted of Professor Sprout boisterously joking with the students, and even making Neville teach a portion of the class, much to his horror and everyone else’s amusement. After it ended, she, Ginny and Neville stayed behind for a bit, recounting stories from their earlier school days. Hermione left with her belly hurting from laughing, which hadn’t happened in quite some time. 

It wasn’t until she got back to her dormitory, and prepared to wash up for dinner did she really think of the evening ahead of her. Her private lesson with Professor Snape. 

Her stomach did a somersault as she thought of being alone with him in the dungeon. As she stood under the hot water of her shower, she couldn’t help but to remember the sight of him standing in the front of his classroom without his shirt on. Her body heated significantly, and she knew it had nothing to do with the temperature of the water. 

No. No, no, no. She would absolutely _not_ think of him in that way. He was her professor for Merlin’s sake. She just had to stop this silly crush she developed all those years ago, which significantly intensified during the start of this term. 

 

At five minutes to nine, Hermione stood in front of the Potions classroom. Her heart raced as she gently knocked on the door. Everything would be fine, she reminded herself once again. 

“Enter,” Snape barked from inside the classroom. 

Hermione took a deep breath to settle her nerves and opened the door. 

“Good evening, Professor. I hope it’s alright that I arrived a few minutes early?” 

Snape was sat at his desk, appearing as if he were grading papers. He looked up from what he was doing and gave her a curt nod. 

“Take a seat, Miss Granger,” he told her as he went back to his work. “I will just be another moment.” 

She sat at a desk in the middle of the room and looked around silently as she waited. Her brow furrowed in confusion when she didn’t notice anything remotely resembling somewhere the two of them would work. All of the desks were empty. Not a spare cauldron or potion ingredient in sight. 

“Sir?” 

He exhaled loudly, the scratching from his scribbling quill ceased. 

“Yes?” he asked sharply. 

She finched softly at his tone, hoping he hadn’t noticed. 

“Are we not brewing this evening, Professor?” 

Even from where she sat, she was able to see him roll his eyes. 

“We will be brewing in my private lab, Miss Granger. That is where the ingredients not used in my lessons are stored.” 

He immediately went back to his work. 

Hermione’s eyes widened. She was going to have the chance to access his personal collection? In his own private lab no less. She was undoubtedly excited at the possibilities of what she could learn. And there was also the thrill of realizing what that meant. That, even though he had never praised her or her work, the fact that he was allowing her access to his collection and lab must have meant he was confident of her abilities. That he trusted her. A small smile appeared on her face. 

“Miss Granger?” 

His voice broke her out of her thoughts. She blushed lightly when she noticed he was watching her, as she sat there smiling like a fool, with a puzzled look on his face. 

“If you’ll follow me,” he said, standing from his seat. 

Snape made his way to a door in the back of his classroom, opposite the one he slammed behind him the evening of her detention. She quickly got up and followed. 

When they entered, the room was completely dark. She heard the swish of his robes, followed by the sight of the sconces being lit on the walls. 

The room was tiny, not much bigger than her dormitory. There were shelves lining the walls, filled with vials of liquid, jars of fermented insects and animal parts, and boxes of different potion ingredients. In the middle of the room was a table, with three standard cauldrons on it. Two long wooden work benches ran along the sides of the table. The room had a peculiar odor to it. Something almost vinegar-like. She assumed it was whatever liquid that was in those jars. 

Snape already had what they needed set out on the table. Two knives, several vials, two boxes and a jar of something that looked like tiny eyeballs. 

As Hermione took in her surroundings, Snape made his way to the table. He huffed impatiently while she looked around. 

“Whenever you are ready, Miss Granger.” 

“Sorry, sir,” she said, and half-ran to sit across from him at their work station. 

When watching him prepare their work for the evening, Hermione couldn’t help but to study him. He shrugged off his cloak, folding it beside him, leaving him in just his black slacks and white shirt. The scars from his attack were still red on his neck, and she found herself thinking it was quite brave of him not to hide them. She glanced down at her arm, which she nearly always kept covered, and wished she could have been as brave. 

He rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, and she took in a sharp breath. There was a light peppering of dark hair on his forearms, and she could see the tendons and muscles move while he set their tools before them. What was it about a man with their sleeves just exposing their lower arms that was so attractive? She couldn’t take her eyes off them, or his long fingers as they worked. Her lower abdomen tightened. 

Suddenly it seemed to dawn on her just how small his damn lab was, and how _alone_ the two of them were together. If she was already coming nearly undone, just the at the sight of his bare arms, how in the hell was she supposed to get through learning this potion with him? 

Everything would be fine, her bloody arse, she thought sourly. 

*** 

The girl was staring. He heard her little intake of breath when he removed his cloak and pushed up his sleeves. What the hell was that about, he wondered? 

He glanced at her as he prepared the Boom Berries they needed to chop. She seemed fixated on his arms, and again she was flushed and biting that damn lip. It normally didn’t feel so hot in his lab, but suddenly it was stifling. 

They were alone. _Too_ alone in his lab. He had been foolish to take her there, but he couldn’t have risked those morons he called students stumbling upon the potion and contaminating it. The damned thing took two weeks to brew. Two weeks… he doomed himself to a fortnight of being so fucking alone with her. 

She was a student. He just had to keep reminding himself that she was a student. It didn’t matter that she was two years passed majority, or that if the world hadn’t been so fucked the previous two decades, she would not have been a student at that moment. He would not think about how almost… cute she appeared, when she tried to not make her staring obvious. 

Dammit, Severus, he scolded himself. He needed to stop. It was just because it had been quite some time since he was so entirely, maddeningly, fucking _alone_ with a witch. It wasn’t Granger. It was just that there was an attractive witch, who didn’t seem to mind his company, and who seemed to be in it willingly. It would pass. 

He could work with her, teach her just fine. Everything would be fine. 

He looked up again into those damn warm eyes of hers, and nearly snorted at his previous thought.

Who the fuck was he fooling?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! 
> 
> Sorry for the delay with the chapter. The week of Thanksgiving was super busy, and I also kind of let myself become majorly distracted by Pokémon. So the wait was just a teeny bit longer than I anticipated. *hides* 
> 
> Anyhoo, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! Updates shouldn’t suffer again, until probably the week of Christmas/New Years. I hope for those in the US that you all had a nice Thanksgiving! And I hope that everyone enjoys the holiday season! 
> 
> Thank you all again so much for all the love! I truly appreciate you all! 
> 
> Much love and hugs,  
> Meg <33


	9. Chapter 9

“Miss Granger?” 

Snape’s voice sounded more gruff than normal for the second time that evening, and she noticed he immediately cleared his throat. 

He pushed towards her one of the knives, and a jar containing small purple balls, appearing as if he was deliberately avoiding eye contact with her. Strange. 

“Boom Berries, sir?” she asked, recognizing the sweet smell, and the signature color. 

Snape nodded. 

“You’ll need to cut these into fourths, Miss Granger. Taking care to make the portions as equal as you can.” 

An interesting choice, she thought. However, she knew of their restorative properties, and assumed they had something to do with helping the nerve damage, which caused the tremors that accompanied the migraines. 

She forced herself to focus on her task, and not let herself become distracted again by his overwhelming presence in that small room. 

As she chopped, she heard him step away from the table, and walk towards one of the shelves behind her. She glanced back for a moment, and found that she quite enjoyed the way his trousers hung low on his hips. 

Quickly she turned back and continued the task at hand, lest he notice her staring. Again. She continued slicing meticulously wondering what he was doing, but not daring to turn around. 

“How is it coming along, Miss Granger?” he asked suddenly from directly behind her. 

Damn, the man moved so silently, she didn’t even notice he was there, and the loud break of the silence caused her to jump. She winced when the blade of the knife missed the berry, and sliced down her forefinger, drawing quite a bit of blood for what looked like such a narrow cut. 

“Dammit!” she hissed, bringing her finger to her mouth, instinctually sucking the wound. 

She looked at her evenings work mentally cursing herself. There was blood covering some of the berries, surely they would have been useless. Snape was sure to have been livid. 

Hermione pulled her finger from her mouth. Damn thing was still bleeding. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” she whispered, looking up at his face. “Do you have any Dittany handy? I can mend it.”

Hmm. He didn’t appear angry. She clearly saw concern in his eyes. Before he rolled them at her, that was. 

“You do not need to apologize for bleeding, Miss Granger.” He took out his wand and reached for her. “Give me your hand.” 

Hermione placed her hand in his waiting palm, and was surprised by the warmth of it. She knew it was silly, but with Snape being such a cold and closed off man, she always assumed his hands would have been like ice. His touch. It was, well… pleasant. 

Snape hovered his wand above the cut, softly singing some sort of incantation she had never heard before. She assumed it was the one Harry had witnessed him use on Malfoy, when Harry unknowingly used Snape’s curse on him. The blood that ran down her hand seemed to seep back into the wound, before it knitted itself closed. Just before her eyes, it went from angry and red, to white and faded. It now appeared as if it were a week old scar, rather than a fresh cut from just minutes beforehand. 

After it was healed, she expected Snape to let her go, however he did not. She once again looked up into his black eyes. He was quite striking, she realized. He had very angular features, and until that moment, she never noticed just how long his eyelashes actually were. Although she had a silly crush on the man, she never really found herself admiring his looks. But she had to admit, there was something about him that was actually beautiful. 

“I think that will do for this evening, Miss Granger,” he said, still holding onto her hand. 

His voice was rough again. It made her shiver delicately. 

“May I come back again tomorrow, sir?” she asked impulsively. 

Snape dropped her hand, and Hermione felt a small amount of disappointment at the loss of contact. 

As she waited for an answer, Snape siphoned her blood from the berries she chopped, and sent them into a jar, which he stoppered. She sat silently, watching him place the jar onto one of his shelves. Finally, he turned around. 

“Will I be able to trust you around sharp objects?” he asked, with a slight twitch of his lips. 

Was he joking with her? No, of course he wasn’t. Snape didn’t joke. Not playfully, anyhow. 

“Only if I could trust you not to sneak up on me again,” she quipped. “Professor,” she added, almost as an afterthought. 

He crossed his arms over his chest, giving her full access to looking at them again. Unconsciously she bit her lip. 

“I believe I can manage that, Miss Granger.” 

She nodded. A wave of excitement ran through her when she realized she would have another chance to be in his lab with him again. Alone. So entirely, beautifully, amazingly alone. 

“Leave everything where it is. This potion requires a fortnight to brew, therefore if you wish to still learn it, you will be here each night to continue. So yes, you may return tomorrow.”

The thought of her spending two weeks with was enticing. 

“Of course, Professor,” she responded in a breathy voice that she had never heard come out of her before. 

What in the hell was that, she wondered? 

Snape raised an eyebrow, and she wanted to bury herself beneath the floor. He noticed, too, it seemed. How mortifying. 

“I’ll walk you out,” he said, clearly dismissing her. 

When they reached the door leading out of his classroom, she hesitated for a moment. She didn’t know what she waited for, but a small portion of her was not ready to part from him for the evening. Damn her clumsiness. She was positive that was why he dismissed her so soon. She turned to look up at him with a shy smile. 

“Thank you, sir, for mending my finger.” 

Snape waved off her thanks. 

“It was my fault, Miss Granger. I… apologize for startling you.” 

Whoa, an apology from Professor Snape? Was her hearing muddled? 

“Yes, well, all the same. Thank you,” she repeated. 

He did not acknowledge her gratitude a second time. 

“Goodnight, Miss Granger.”

Her lips turned down into a slight frown. 

“Goodnight, sir.” 

 

As Hermione settled into bed that evening, her time with Snape replayed through her head. The memory of her hand in his caused butterflies to form in her stomach. Hermione couldn’t remember ever having that reaction to a man’s touch before. Not with Viktor, and certainly not with Ron. She wanted that reaction with Ron so badly at one time, but no matter how much she wished for it, it just never happened. Why was she suddenly feeling that way with Snape of all people? 

Was it perhaps because she spent months feeling absolutely nothing at all, but since her heated exchange with Snape that first day of classes, it was like she awoke from a walking coma? Ever since that day it seemed she heard everything more clearly, and actually seemed to be cognizant of the world around her. 

It was dangerous to become attached to him, strictly to chase that feeling. Perhaps she should cancel further private lessons with him, before this… addiction took over. 

 

*** 

_Severus, you stop this right now_ , he mentally grumbled. Granger was too young. And, although she had seen her fair of the dark realities the world had to offer, he was certain she was still too innocent for the likes of a former Death Eater. He could not think of how perfectly her delicate little hand fit into his as he mended her, or of the genuine concern he felt when he saw her injured. Severus didn’t care about anyone, and he would be damned if he allowed himself to care about _her_. 

He should cancel further lessons with her. She was proving to be more dangerous to him than the Dark Lord had ever been. He only had death to fear when it came to the Dark Lord; not that he even feared death. He welcomed the thought of the sweet release when he was sure it was coming for him that night in the Shrieking Shack. And death was nothing compared to the addiction Hermione Granger was becoming to him. Addiction was a weakness, and Severus Snape was a lot of things, but he was not weak. 

_Coward_ , he berated himself for thinking of canceling. He would handle this… whatever this was. He’d spent the majority of his life perfecting channeling and pushing down his emotions. He could continue to do so in her presence. Granger would not have any hold on him any longer. He’d seen many beautiful women in his time, what was one more pretty face? 

But, she was more than that, wasn’t she? The girl was exceptionally intelligent. Shockingly so for someone of her age. Wise beyond her years, she was. Not that he would have ever told her that. She was fierce, and loyal to a fault. She didn’t look at him with that hint of mistrust most others did. She told him that she had respected him, and he actually believed her. No one had ever told him that before, and he was sure he let the shock of her words show on his face for a brief moment after she had said that. 

There was also the fact that she had brought him out of his mental slumber. Made him _feel_ again, when he’d spent so long numb to the everything and everyone around him. She angered him, amused him, and — he was ashamed to admit it, aroused him. 

“Arg!” he roared out as he paced in his sitting room. 

He needed a cigarette. And a drink. 

Severus poured a glass was whiskey, and downed it in one gulp. He still couldn’t shake the uneasiness he felt in his gut due to the girl. 

Perhaps two drinks. 

*** 

Hermione enjoyed a quiet Saturday, mostly on her own. She spent a portion of the morning in the library, writing the first draft of her Transfiguration essay. Malfoy showed up and sat with her for about an hour. They didn’t talk much, just mainly about the essay. But it hadn’t been entirely unpleasant. She was actually beginning to enjoy his company, and started to somewhat think of him as a friend. Sort of. 

After lunch she wrote a letter to Harry. She was eager to know what he had been learning in his Auror training, and if he was finding it to his liking. She wrote a bit about the school, and how her classes were going, inking a small paragraph about her private lessons with Professor Snape. 

She knew that Harry had been itching to see Snape, and to talk with him about his mother. But every time he sent an owl over the summer, he never received a response. Pretty much everyone who had known Lily Potter well was now dead, and Snape was the only person he had left to hear stories of her. She meant to bring the subject of speaking with Harry up to him, but just hadn’t found the opportune time to do so. She imaged that probably wouldn’t end up a nice conversation. However, she would still do it for Harry. 

After dinner that evening, she sat in the common room reading. She couldn’t really concentrate on the book, due to checking the time every few minutes, eager to have her second meeting with Snape. 

“Everything alright, Hermione?” Ginny asked, sprawled out on the floor with some Quidditch magazine before her. 

Hermione closed her book. “Yeah, why?” 

“Well, you’ve been checking your watch almost every other minute. Do you have to be somewhere?” 

She hadn’t mentioned her lessons to anyone. Mainly due to the fact that she still didn’t admit to her friends about the residual effects she suffered from the Cruciatus Curse. Her friends had enough to worry about, considering so many of them lost loved ones during the war. She didn’t feel as if anyone needed to worry about her, as well. 

“Oh, well, yes,” she admitted softly, but didn’t elaborate. 

Ginny raised her eyebrows. “And that would be where?” she asked slowly. 

Her traitorous cheeks burned. Damn blush always gave her away. 

“I… I’ve taken private lessons with Snape, actually.” 

“What?” Ginny asked in shock, immediately sitting up. “Why would you do that to yourself? Aren’t you afraid you might slip and say something about…” 

She mimed healing her own neck with her wand. Hermione panicked, looking around quickly to make sure no one was listening. 

“Stop that!” she snapped. “And no, Ginny, I’m not.” 

Ginny laughed quietly at Hermione’s reaction. 

“So what are these lessons?” 

Ugh. She really didn’t know how to explain without giving her condition away. However, she thought of a cover quickly. 

“I’m just learning how to brew some advanced potions. Keeping my options open for possible career opportunities after we leave the school.” 

“And _Snape_ is actually helping you with this.” she stated in disbelief. “I would say that the snake must have killed off the miserable git that was inside him, but him giving me no marks in class kind of fucks up that theory.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes and snorted. Checking her watch again, she saw it was time for her to leave. 

“I’ve got to go,” she announced, sending her book up to her room. 

Ginny turned back onto her stomach, and continued thumbing through her magazine. 

“Yeah, have fun with that,” she said with a laugh. 

With a shake of her head, Hermione left the common room, and made her way down to the dungeons. 

 

As she stood outside the door to his classroom, she fiddled with her jumper, and attempted to smooth down her hair. Should she have worn her school robes, instead of denims? Oh well, it was too late to rethink her clothing decision. She took a deep breath and knocked. 

“Come in, Miss Granger,” Snape called from inside the classroom. 

When she walked in, she noticed his eyes look her over. Suddenly she felt self-conscious about what she was wearing. 

“Good — Good evening, Professor.” 

Snape gave a nod, and swiftly turned to make his way towards his private lab. Hermione hurried to catch up. 

The two sat in the same spots as the evening before. Snape summoned the bottle of Boom Berries she cut, and took out four Unicorn Horns from one of the boxes on the table. He handed two of them to Hermione. 

“These are to be crushed into a fine powered, Miss Granger. After which, we will add them into the cauldron under a low heat, combined with the berries and a Dragon Spleen.” 

She reached for the mortar and pestle to begin.

“Yes, sir.” 

The silence was heavy between them as they worked. A few times she peeked at him from beneath her lashes. It was quite amazing to watch a Potions Master at work, she thought. He crushed diligently, and she couldn’t take her eyes off his slender fingers as they wrapped around the pestle. Her bottom lip found its way between her teeth again, as she imagined those fingers tracing her body. 

“Problem, Miss Granger?” Snape asked, not looking up. 

She stopped crushing while she lost herself in that silly fantasy. She hadn’t even realized. 

“Oh. No, Professor. Just… just stretching my fingers,” she lied, and went back to it. 

“Is the work too difficult for you to manage?” he asked sarcastically, looking up at her. 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Of course not!” she snapped. He raised a brow. “Sir,” she tacked on quickly, lest she lose points. 

For another half an hour the pair worked quietly. Snape finished just before Hermione and waited. Not patiently. She heard a few of his huffs as she finished up. 

“Finished, Miss Granger?” he asked when she set her work aside. 

“I am.” 

Snape took the powdered Unicorn Horn from her and added it to his own. She was transfixed watching him light a low flame under the cauldron, then adding the powder and the berries. Taking mental notes, she noticed he stirred exactly seven times, clockwise, before adding in the Dragon Spleen. All of his movement were deliberate, yet graceful. It was something truly special to watch him work. 

“This will need to stew for an hour,” he told her, wiping his hands on a green handkerchief he pulled from his pocket. 

An hour? She internally panicked. What were they supposed to do for an hour? 

“Alright, sir,” she answered in a voice barely above a whisper. 

If she hadn’t known better, she would have sworn she just witnessed a half-smile appear on his face, before disappearing just as quickly. 

 

***

Severus saw the slight trepidation on her face, after he informed her they had an hour wait. He wasn’t careful, and his mask slipped for a moment. Hopefully she hadn’t seen it. 

“Come,” he said, standing from his seat. “We’ll wait in my office.” 

_Dangerous!_ His mind shouted at him. He should have just dismissed her for the evening, allowing her to come back the next day to continue. But, truthfully, he wanted more time with her. She’d been so quiet while they worked; unusual for the girl. He anticipated her to question him to the point of annoyance. However, it appeared the two of them could work in a compatible silence. He didn’t… mind working with her. 

Her mouth parted just a hair. Almost unnoticeably so, but he noticed. 

Without waiting, he made his way to the adjoining door leading to his office. 

When they entered he turned to look at her. As he expected, her eyes were wide and hungry, taking in his massive book collection, which occupied two of the walls. He nearly smiled again as he watched her. It was _attractive_ how enthralled she was with books. Never had he known someone to rival his own love of the written word. 

She was holding back, he could tell. A few times she involuntarily twitched, like she meant to run forward. Although he was enjoying watching her, he took pity on her. 

“Help yourself to anything you’d like to read,” he told her. 

Granger turned around swiftly, and nothing could have prepared him for the feeling her glowing smile had given him. It was like he was punched in the gut. How could a simple smile make him feel… warm? 

“Thank you, sir!” 

She ran. He had to stifle a laugh. She actually ran towards his bookshelves. Such an odd young woman, she was. 

He stood back and admired the sight before him, as she paced, trailing her fingers along the spines of his books. She was not in her school robes, instead dressed in a pair of muggle denims, which he had to admit were a bit too tight for his comfort, and a dark orange jumper, which suited her coloring nicely. When she stretched to get a better look at some of the higher shelves, a thin line of her bare back showed. Merlin, the girl was going to be the death of him. 

 

*** 

Hermione imagined that this was what her classmates had felt like the first time they visited Honeydukes. Snape just had _so many_ books. She didn’t even know where to begin. 

There was one on the top shelf that caught her eye. _Muggle Medicine and Magical Remedies_. She was intrigued to see what was in that book, thinking of when Arthur Weasley and that Healer from St. Mungo’s attempted stitches on his wounds from Nagini. 

Hermione stood on her toes trying to reach, but it was just out of her grasp. She was just barely containing the urge to climb his shelves, when suddenly she caught his scent, then a heartbeat later she felt his robes brush against the sliver of exposed skin on her back. Hermione froze completely when his body lightly pressed against hers. 

“Allow me,” he drawled quietly. She could feel his breath on the side of her face. 

Her heart raced when he lifted his arm and reached for the book. A sudden warmth filled her body, and every inch of her skin felt like it was tingling. She lost the ability to breathe in that moment. 

He pulled the book out slowly and his hand lightly brushed Hermione’s — her arm was still outstretched in the position he first approached her at. 

“Thank you, sir,” she whispered in a voice like sandpaper. 

All too soon he backed away, and Hermione finally let her arm drop. The whole exchange couldn’t have been more than a thirty seconds, yet it felt like he was pressed against her for an hour. Her mouth went dry, and her damn cheeks were ablaze. Again. 

She turned around, hoping he wouldn’t have noticed her blush, but knowing that was a useless hope. He held the book out to her, and as much as she wanted to, she could not look at his face. The physical reactions he had just caused made her worry that if she _did_ look at him, she would have acted on a foolish impulse and throw herself at the man. 

Keeping her eyes firmly locked on the floor, she took the book. There was no way in hell she would have been able to concentrate on it now. 

Snape gestured towards a patched, green armchair in the corner of his room, indicating for her to sit and read. She sat down quietly, opening the book on her lap, but was severely distracted. The ghost of his touch still lingered on her skin. No man had ever excited her with just the lightest amount of contact the way Severus Snape just did. 

She sat stiffly, her back completely erect. Images of herself running her hands down Snape’s bare back invaded her mind. 

“You can relax, Miss Granger,” Snape said, breaking into her developing fantasy. “This isn’t a detention.” 

Forcing herself to sit back in her seat, she tried to relax. But that was impossible now. Now that she had this overwhelming _need_ for the surly, dark Professor across the room. 

As she pretended to read, she sneaked a few glances at the man. He truly wasn’t a Wizard who would have landed the cover of _Witch Weekly_ , she knew that. His hair was in a constant state of greasiness, which she assumed was from being surrounded by potion fumes all day. His teeth were overcrowded, and yellowed, due to the smoking she realized, after smelling the Muggle cigarettes on him. He was cutting, cold, vindictive and sometimes just downright cruel. However, if you looked beneath all of that, there was some warmth in there, that briefly showed itself when she became overcome with one of her migraines, and again the previous evening when she had cut her finger. Then once more, just under an hour beforehand, when he opened his private library to her. Not to mention, the man was a hero. Regardless if he wanted to admit that or not. 

She couldn’t explain it, but Merlin, did she want him. 

Snape looked up, and Hermione immediately forced her eyes back on her book. 

“I believe we can check on our progress, Miss Granger.” 

Hermione gently set his book aside, then followed him back into his lab. 

“The potion, if correctly brewed, should be an iridescent opal color at this stage,” he told her, as they took their seats across from one another. 

Hermione nodded, and leaned over the table to peek into the cauldron. She was nervous that perhaps she didn’t crush the Unicorn Horns finely enough, and mucked it up, which would have caused Snape to permanently dismiss her from their private lessons. The thought of not having this time alone with him made her exceptionally sad. However, she needn’t have worried. The contents of the cauldron were exactly the color Snape stated it should have been. Reflexively, she smiled. 

Snape looked in after her and gave a curt nod. 

“That looks… adequate, Miss Granger.” 

She knew it looked more than _adequate_ , as he said. But she also knew that Snape was not one to hand out compliments freely. Not to her. Never to her. Although, she had a feeling that was his way of letting her know she had done a good job with it. She was more mature, mentally as well as physically, and instead of pouting, as she may have as a child, she nodded back at him, accepting his form of praise. 

“Thank you, sir.” 

Satisfied with their progress for the evening, Snape dismissed her. Again she felt the disappointment of leaving his lab, and tried not to show it on her face. She was always horrible at masking her emotions. 

When she went to walk out of his lab, Snape gestured for her to go first. She drew in a surprised breath when she felt the softest of touches, just on her lower back, guiding her through the doorway. For the third time that evening, she felt that almost electric feeling course through her at his touch. But just as quickly as he had done it, he pulled his hand away. Surely he couldn’t have meant to do that, she wondered. 

They faced one another in the doorway of his classroom. She looked up at his face, and couldn’t take her eyes from his lips. The impulse to kiss them was strong. _Stop this nonsense!_ She internally scolded herself. 

“Erm… same time tomorrow, Professor?” she asked hopefully. 

The look he gave her was almost pained. She couldn’t explain it, but there was a hint of indecision, and almost desperation in his eyes. He hesitated before he answered. 

“Same time,” he finally agreed. 

She felt the relief in her chest, because for a fraction of a moment, she thought he was about to tell her no. How strange it was that the evenings spent in the dark dungeons were quickly becoming the highlight of her days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! 
> 
> Well this chapter kind of got away from me. I didn’t intend for it to be this long, but here we are lol. I hope you all enjoyed it! Things are going to begin picking up with our favorite couple pretty soon, and this story will begin earning its rating in chapter 12. So, we’re getting there. :) 
> 
> Thank you again, everyone, for all the love and kind words! I love you all! Have a great weekend, all!! <33


	10. Chapter 10

Why did he allow himself to behave in that manner? He should have never invaded her personal space. Certainly he should not have pushed himself against her, or brushed her hand as he pulled out that book. He was right, Hermione Granger _was_ proving to be dangerous to him. Severus was never one to act on impulse, and now look at what he’d done. 

He almost told her no. When she asked if she should have returned the following day, he was _so damn close_ to saying no. However, when he saw the eagerness in her expression, and looked into those fucking brown eyes, he faltered. It was obvious the girl _wanted_ to be near him. But why? Was it just the potion, or was it something more? 

Well, if he were being honest with himself, Granger did exhibit signs of attraction towards him. He heard it in her voice, and saw it plainly written on her face. And she wasn’t exactly discreet about her staring at him, while biting that fucking lip. He let out a laugh. She was horrible at hiding her thoughts and emotions. Typical for a Gryffindor. 

If Granger was feeling an attraction towards him, he _should_ stop their private lessons. It was one thing for him to be attracted to her, but if she had felt the same… no. He couldn’t allow that. Yet, there was a small part of him, which seemed to grow bigger by the hour, that wanted to see how this played out. 

_Dammit, Severus, you can’t_ , he thought angrily. He reminded himself for the umpteenth time that she was still a student of that school. But that was difficult to remember when the girl was wearing Muggle clothing, on a body that was far more woman than student. 

Severus tossed and turned, unable to stop the chatter between the rational part of his brain, and the portion that just wanted to say to hell with it and go for her. He only had three drinks that evening, maybe another one, or possibly two, would help him drift off. Perhaps with some aid from a Dreamless Sleep potion, as well. 

*** 

Hermione woke up in a surprisingly good mood. She was looking forward to the day ahead of her, planning on spending time in the library again, and of course, her lesson that evening with Snape. As she looked out her window and saw it was somewhat sunny outside, she decided maybe she’d pay Hagrid a visit, instead of the library. 

After cleaning her teeth and dressing for the day, she made her way down to the common room to see if perhaps Neville or Ginny were awake and ready for breakfast. She doubted Ginny would have been up at eight in the morning on a Sunday, but Neville had always been an early riser. 

Just as she suspected, Neville was sat at a table near the wall, pruning Merlin knew what sort of plant. It resembled a miniature cactus, yet it was a shocking shade of neon blue, and the pokey bits twitched in a way reminiscent of a spider’s legs. She was surprised she never ran across such a plant in all of the reading she had done over the years. 

Neville must have been completely absorbed in his work, because he didn’t even notice Hermione until she spoke up next to him. 

“Good morning,” she said, eyeing the plant suspiciously. 

He finished clipping a blue bud off of the plant before looking up. 

“Hey Hermione.” He smiled. “If you give me about two more minutes, I’ll head to the Great Hall with you.” 

“No problem,” she agreed, still staring at his work. “What is that, Neville? I’ve never seen that before?” 

“Oh, this? It’s a Aranea Sanitatem Cactaceae,” he told her, sounding like it was common knowledge. “Roughly translates to Healing Spider Cactus.” 

Her eyebrows raised. She never even _heard_ of that before. 

“Yeah, I know, the real name makes it sound a lot more interesting,” he chuckled. “The buds I’m cutting have really strong restorative properties. They’re mainly used in very rare healing potions. Like the type you’d get at St. Mungo’s if you were admitted,” he further went on. “And the cool part is, they make the potion taste like blueberries.” 

Neville always did have a tendency to ramble when speaking about anything Herbology related. Yet Hermione never minded. It was interesting to learn new things. And something he had just said was very intriguing to Hermione. 

Blueberries would have certainly been more pleasant than that rotten cabbage taste Snape’s potion had. Maybe if they substituted the Boom Berries for the cactus buds, it would be more potent, _and_ taste better? Perhaps she would bring that up later on that evening. 

Not much later Neville was ready to go, and the pair chatted the entire way down to the Great Hall. 

“You seem… more _yourself_ ,” Neville said carefully as they took their seats together. 

Unconsciously her eyes flickered towards the Head Table, where she saw Snape lazily twirling his finger, rotating the spoon in his morning coffee. She could never explain that it was the most despised teacher at Hogwarts, who seemed to awaken something inside her, that had been dormant for months. 

A half smile automatically formed on her lips. 

“I suppose it’s just being back at school,” she lied, helping herself to a cup of coffee of her own. 

She glanced back up at Snape when Neville wasn’t looking, and felt her stomach flip when she noticed he was staring right back at her. Although, unlike the previous times he had caught her, he did not glare at her. Instead his expression was she supposed… _perplexed_. It was as if she was a riddle he was trying to solve. It made her feel somewhat uncomfortable, and she hoped that he wasn’t attempting to penetrate her mind. She abruptly looked away. 

“Well, whatever it is, I’m glad,” said Neville with a genuine smile. 

Hermione smiled back, but was disappointed in herself. She never realized that others noticed the dark hole she slipped into after the war was over. She thought she’d done a better job at hiding it. Apparently, that hadn’t been the case. 

 

The rest of her day was relaxed. Neville slipped off with Hannah after breakfast, and Hermione spent a pleasant morning with Hagrid in his hut. He was extremely pleased that he had been made Head of Gryffindor, but was worried that he’d somehow muck it up. Admittedly, a part of her worried that his fears may prove correct at some point, but she reassured him that McGonagall trusted him, and she was sure that Dumbledore would have as well. 

Hermione said her goodbyes when it was nearing lunchtime, smiling to herself as she felt the weight of the rock cakes Hagrid sent her off with in the pockets of her robes. She wondered how many of them she’d taken with her, only to have thrown away later over the years. She was sure between herself, Harry, and Ron, they could have replicated Hagrid’s hut with them all. 

She ate lunch with Ginny, Neville, and Dean, and they invited Hannah and Luna to sit at the far end of the table with them. Their little corner of the Gryffindor table was louder than most of the other students, as they recanted some of the more humorous memories from their early years at Hogwarts. Hermione laughed as they retold the story of she, Harry, Ron and Neville meeting _Fluffy_ for the first time. They particularly had a laugh at Hermione telling off the boys, saying how getting expelled would have been worse than them being ripped to shreds by the three-headed dog. Merlin, she was a bossy little twit back then, she thought with a fond smile. 

But even through all the laughter and lightness of the day, her mind inexplicably travelled back to Snape more times than she was comfortable with. Even during lunch her eyes wandered towards the staff table, just watching him eat and converse with Professor McGonagall. He didn’t appear to be enjoying his conversation. The way he sat, angling himself away from McGonagall, paired with the scowl on his face, would have told anyone that he would have preferred to have eaten in peace. 

She wondered when was the last time he actually let someone in. When he allowed himself to lower his walls and call someone a friend. She supposed most likely not for a long time. Considering his role in the war, friendship must not have been easy to come by, or conductive to him being a spy. She was glad that she saved his life, but she intended for him to actually _live_ when she did. And Snape appeared as if he were just going through the motions of day to day life. Perhaps she could be the person to break down his icy exterior and really see the man within. She felt she caught glimpses of that man when she had been alone with him, and those small glimpses were what she had found herself dangerously attracted to. 

Even when they had their rows, in her first Potions class, and during her detention, she saw a fire in his eyes that was normally not present otherwise. A fire that ignited something in her as well. 

 

For a majority of the afternoon her tiny group settled in a small courtyard just off of the Charms corridor. The late summer air was still pleasant enough for them to remain outside, and enjoy the last decent days the year had to offer. Hermione didn’t really know Hannah all too well during her time at school, but spending time with her that day, and see how taken she seemed to be with Neville really warmed her up to the girl. She was sweet, and somewhat shy, but Hermione could tell she was a genuine person. And anyone who made Neville happy was alright with her. 

She felt sorry for Malfoy, however. He walked by the group, alone, nodding a hello to Hermione, who waved and said hello back. He was always alone, she realized. Not even during his meals would he be sitting near any of his year mates. Looking around, she took in how relaxed and carefree her friends appeared. Finally all having a _normal_ school year, and she wondered if she should have invited Malfoy to join them. She knew that she most likely would have been met with some resistance from her friends, but she was sure that at least Luna would have backed her up. Perhaps next time, she mused. 

 

“This is ridiculous,” Hermione whined to her reflection, as she stood in front of the full-length mirror in her dormitory. 

For whatever foolish reason, she decided to try to charm her hair before her meeting with Snape that evening. As good as her spellwork was, she just never seemed to get cosmetic charms down. Probably because she never practiced them, or ever really studied them for they matter. She had little reason to during her younger school years. Most of her energy was spent solving the mystery that school year seemed to bring, plus keeping her grades up on top of it. Hermione never really had much of a need to worry about her appearance. Merlin knew that Parvati and Lavender tried to teach her, but by fifth year gave her up as a bad job. Then with the whole business between Ron and _Lav-Lav_ — she suppressed a gag, her sixth year, there was no way either of her dorm mates were keen on helping her during that time. After that she lived in a tent for nearly a year, just fighting to survive, so vanity was never very high on her list of priorities. 

Hermione tried again the spell that she looked up to smooth her hair, since she had run out of Sleekeazy, therefore couldn’t manually do it. However, every time she tried, only from her roots to about three inches down would straighten, with the rest frizzy and wild. She looked like a circus clown! 

With an angry grunt, she finally had given up, and resolved herself to asking Ginny for help some other day. She would have asked her then, but considering Ginny knew she had a lesson with Snape in less than an hour, she didn’t want her friend becoming suspicious. 

Eventually she settled on twisting her hair into a simple bun at the base of her neck, threw on a jumper and a pair of denims. She looked herself over once more in the mirror and decided she’d done the best she could. 

“Ridiculous,” she repeated in a whisper, wondering why on earth she was so worried about how she looked in front of Snape. It wasn’t as if he would have been attracted to her anyhow. This was just a silly crush she needed to get over, because it absolutely would not go anywhere. 

*** 

Severus glanced at the clock in his classroom. Granger would be knocking in five minutes time. Why was he nervous? He hadn’t had this feeling in his gut in response to a woman since… No. He wouldn’t think of it. 

Not content with sitting, Severus got up and began to pace. What was Granger doing to him? Why was he suddenly so affected by her? 

“This is ridiculous,” he scolded himself. 

Loathe he was to admit it, their meetings have quickly become a bright spot in his otherwise dismal days. Just her presence in his lonely lab brought a light to it, in which had never existed beforehand. He found himself… looking forward to being near her. 

“Ridiculous,” he scoffed again. 

A gentle knock sounded at his door, causing his traitorous heart to beat more quickly. 

“Enter,” he called out, as he stopped his pacing. 

Granger entered with tentative steps. A small smile touched her pink lips. How he wanted to taste them. 

“Good evening, sir,” she greeted him softly. 

She truly was a sight to behold, he thought as he nodded at her. Her hair was pulled up, showing off the graceful curvature of her neck. Again she wore her Muggle clothing, making him temporarily forget that she was a student. He knew he would have to make a conscious effort not to stare at her arse again that evening in those denims, that were just too fucking tight. Why had she chosen _those_ to wear, he thought with a desperate edge in his mental tone. Couldn’t she have worn something, _anything_ else that would not accentuate the fact that she had the most delectable curves he had ever seen in a woman. It was as if she wore them just to drive him mad. 

He needed to pull himself together. She was looking at him with narrowed eyes, and it made him realize how long he had stood there ogling the girl. 

Severus cleared his throat. “Right then. You know where to go,” he told her brusquely, turning with a swish of his robes, and stalked off towards his lab. 

Damn woman was a fucking Siren. She’d be the death of him, he just knew it. 

*** 

Was he… was Snape just _checking her out?_ No, she thought, he couldn’t possibly have been. It must have been a trick of the light or something, she rationalized. But why was he staring at her like _that_? So intense. So… approving almost. She shook her head. Stop, she told herself. She was the _insufferable know-it-all,_ as he had called her in the past. There was no way that Snape would have been attracted to her. 

Hermione hurried and followed him into his lab. They both took their seats, and before they got started Hermione wanted to bring up Neville’s plant, before she became too distracted by him removing his robes again. 

“Sir, I was thinking,” she began, biting her lip, anxious about how he would react to her suggestion. 

Snape snorted quietly. “How unusual for you,” he said with a sarcastic edge to his tone. 

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Funny,” she spat. “Sir,” she added quickly, in response to his disapproving glare. 

“Well,” he waved his hand impatiently, “Go on, Miss Granger.” 

She was nervous. She knew how easily Snape was provoked. A part of her worried that he would have been insulted by her suggesting a change to his potion that he had be gracious enough to teach her. But, it was too late now. She might as well have gotten on with it. 

“Forgive me, sir, but you know how your potion tastes… well. Terrible?” 

Hermione braced herself for the berating she was sure was about to come. However, she was flabbergasted when she noticed the corner of his mouth lift into a slight smirk. 

“Obviously I have, Miss Granger. I’ve taken it as well,” he drawled. 

Hmm. That could have gone worse. 

“Have you ever considered using Aranea Sanitatem Cactaceae? The buds, as I understand, have extremely strong restorative properties, most likely more so than the Boom Berries, and would make the potion taste like—“ 

“Blueberries, yes, I’m aware,” he cut her off. 

“Oh,” she responded lamely. 

“The only issue with that, Miss Granger, is the plant is notoriously difficult to come by, and outrageously expensive. Boom Berries, it’s true, are not as potent, and _do_ cause a horrific taste, however, I’ve come to prefer a moment of discomfort to the overbearing pain and… inconvenient tremors.” 

Hermione placed her index finger across her lower lip as she considered asking Neville if she could have some of the buds for Snape’s potion. She was nearly positive he would help her. And, she didn’t have much money, but she would offer to give him some, if he would want any for them. 

“Sir? What if I happened to know someone who was currently in possession of an Aranea Sanitatem Cactaceae? If I managed to secure some of its buds, do you suppose we could start the potion over with them, to see if it would work the same?” 

Snape appeared to be considering it. He didn’t immediately reject the idea, which she took as a positive sign. She had to admit, however, it was difficult to concentrate on academia when he was sitting across from her with his shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows once again, crossing his lean arms over his chest. Her hand almost itched with the desire to reach across the table and caress them. To feel each muscle, and his soft pale skin under her fingertips. 

Oh no! She panicked. He said something, didn’t he? And she hadn’t heard a word of it when she was focused on his arms. The way he was watching her, with a mix of mild irritation, yet a hint of amusement shining in his coal black eyes, caused heat to pool in her cheeks. 

“Miss Granger?” he asked slowly, lifting an eyebrow. 

Hermione quickly snapped herself out of her daydream. She was mortified. 

“I’m sorry, sir. What did you say?” 

 

*** 

This time there was no doubt about it. He had definitely seen the way she looked at his bare arms. Why was the sight of them bringing out such an intriguing reaction in the girl? He had taken his robes off, and pushed up his sleeves on purpose this time, to see if the girl would behave the same as she did the first time. He was amused to see that she did. Granger didn’t even hear a word he said when he told her that would be fine by him, if she were able to produce the buds. 

She was embarrassed. Normally he would have been seething if someone had asked him a question, and the person could not have been bothered to pay attention to the answer. Severus despised repeating himself. But, as was becoming uncomfortably more common with Granger, his reactions to certain situations were not the same with her. However, he would toy with her. 

Severus put on his best stern glare, internally laughing when she sank down a hair in her seat. 

“Miss Granger, if you cannot be bothered to pay attention when I respond to a question you ask, then perhaps this arrangement we have is not going to work,” he scolded her. 

He was not prepared for the immediate sadness that clouded the girl’s eyes at that statement. He was certainly not prepared for the way it seemed to cut at his very core to witness any form of sadness in her eyes. Suddenly, he felt a stab of regret for toying with her. He only wanted to watch her squirm for a moment, because truthfully, she was quite adorable when flustered. But sad. No, she’d had enough sadness for a lifetime, and he certainly hadn’t wanted to cause her any more. No matter how minor. 

“I’m sorry, Professor. It won’t happen again,” she assured him softly. 

_Dammit, Severus_ , he cursed himself, when he nearly reached across to take her hand, and tell her he hadn’t meant it. But no. No fucking way in the name of Merlin could he have allowed himself to do that. Fucking hell. He was most definitely going soft. At least, when it came to Hermione Granger, that was. 

“That’s — That’s quite alright, Granger,” he said gruffly. 

 

***

Her head snapped up. Snape accepted her apology that easily? And he called her _Granger_ again. He hadn’t done that often, maybe it was only one or two other times? But, it was strange. It almost felt as foreign as if he’d used her given name. She didn’t mind it. It made her feel more like a peer, rather than a student. 

“What I said was, I would be willing to try, if you were to somehow obtain the buds in question.” 

She was excited at the prospect of adding something to Snape’s creation. If they ended up using her suggestion, she knew it was silly, but it would end up feeling like _their_ potion. Something they had made together. And to be paired with such a brilliant mind in Potions, that had meant a lot to her. He could have easily told her to piss off, but he’d actually taken her suggestion seriously. That had to have meant that he had taken _her_ seriously. 

“I’m sure I could get them, Professor,” she said confidently, then deflated just slightly. “So does that mean we’re not working on the potion tonight, if we’re just going to start from scratch again?” 

Hermione hoped they could continue. She wasn’t ready to leave, considering she had only just arrived. But it would have made more sense to postpone her lesson, if they were going to begin fresh. 

Surprisingly, Snape gave her a tiny smirk. 

“And waste the _blood_ ,” he looked pointedly at the finger she had cut the first night, “sweat and tears you have put into it thus far?” he asked with a touch of humor in his voice. 

“You’re teasing me?” she asked, not hiding her astonishment. 

Although, had that meant more time in the dungeons with him? If so, that was fine by her. 

“I suppose I am, Granger,” he said with a light chuckle. 

It wasn’t full out laughter, but it was the only time she’d ever heard any sort of laugh from Snape without any hint of vindictiveness, and… well, she rather enjoyed it, actually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey lovelies! 
> 
> Sorry that the update is a few days later than normal. But it’s a little busy, with the holiday coming up next week. Been busy shopping, decorating, putting the tree up, cleaning, and all that fun adulting stuff we have to do sometimes. I’m passed the point where I had chapters pre-written, so I was sneaking in writing here and there when I had some downtime. But I did manage to get a little of chapter 11 written, just because I know the next 2 weeks are going to be super busy, between Christmas, and my birthday, then New Years. So I’m not 100% sure if I’ll have an update by this coming weekend or not. I promise I’ll try, but we might be looking at closer to 2 weeks before the next chapter. Then, after the holidays, we’ll get back on track. :) 
> 
> Just a little note. I may be making up some potion ingredients from time to time, and Neville’s plant is one of those things that are not canon. Just something I came up with for the story. 
> 
> I want to thank you all again for all the love! I’m so happy that you all seem to be enjoying the story so far, and I truly hope that you continue to as it goes on. 
> 
> I also hope, no matter what you celebrate, that you all have, or have had, an amazing holiday season, and I wish you all the very best New Year to come! 
> 
> Sending out much love and hugs,  
> Meg <33


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